by Krystal Roberts
DustMight
There was a face in the dust.
I think I’m going crazy.
But I saw it.
It wasn’t smiling.
It wasn’t frowning.
It was just there.
Accepted its fate as just something to be.
But I saw it.
I saw it for what it was.
A man.
A Woman.
A People.
Whose journey has to pick up whenever
Someone deems it unclean.
Whitewash the neighborhoods.
Clean off the table.
Only one group can eat.
But that dust.
It gathers.
While They eat.
He gathers.
Himself.
I saw a face in the dust.
And it looked like mine.
Footprints in the sand.
We keep moving.
But..we always leave roots.
So even after we are long gone.
We are still cracking your pavement.
These dust free neighborhoods.
Ain’t for me.
We are our own roots.
We will crack every damn.
Foundation you lay.
Black Girl Magic Haiku
I be listening
The ansisters speak to me.
They call me Magic.
Resistance.
Anger so tangible
She made it human
The magical expressions of God herself.
We are the bows that God threw.
Bullets bounce to the beat.
Knuck if you buck is our speak.
Our freedom is showing.
Careful.
We dance through every pain.
Every song is our anthem
Until we pledge to ourselves.
Allegiance to the black bodies.
So filled with lightning
It's a shock, but you're blinded
By our compassion.
Our Grace...we will leave at the altar. This time.
The people will fly again.
You will no longer tread on our wings.
I will never understand
How freedom threatens you.
But I guess
If my freedom relied
On the oppression of others.
I would be scared too.
Africa Talks to herself
I've felt the blood of my children.
I feel their bodies crying
Whenever that whip
Kissed their skin
Like the sun did
And I felt their pain.
And all I wanted to do
Was hold you.
I would beg the lord to
Bury you within me
So you would feel
Just how much
I loved you
So you would feel loved at all
I wish I could show you
What you are destined to be
Once free.
Trapped and strapped
And tied up.
They used those trees Against you.
Unknowingly
they turned my children into seeds
they do not know How you rise.
How you are destined to grow
From the soils of black folk.
They took you away
But I still feel you.
I always will.
Perhaps more than one could imagine.
I dream of home
If the Trees could talk.
Blood leaks from my leaves
I am a witness
I watch them leave
As death falls upon
My new limb.
Smiles on their faces
Whilst I am burdened
This weight breaks my bough.
This sorrow rocks me
To my roots.
Pale faces watch me
In the moonlight.
As I stare back at them.
I will never forget this sorrow
I will never forget the sparrow.
The owls questioning The nature of these beasts.
Blood leaks from my leaves
To my roots.
And we are connected.
The forest never forgets.
Hey Black Girl
Hey Black Girl.
As bright as the sun
As dark as the night.
And out of that night.
We are unconquerable.
Right?
We gon be alright.
We. Me. You. Us.
The sleepless nights,
The endless fights.
Or simple rights.
We gon be alright.
The strength of a black woman.
Equal to a thousand years of wait.
For a change to come.
Carrying that weight.
Unbowed. Unbroken.
Breaking these chains.
Break free Black Girl.
Save me
Krystal Roberts is a 26-year-old Georgia Girl. She believes HBCU Bands are gifts from the Melanin Based Gods. South Carolina State over everything.
