Black bodies

 

Black bodies beautified with cocoa-butter to illuminates the skin 

Shining as bright as Bright as the sun, with the power of melanin 

Black bodies are a glorious gift unexpected 

With coarse hair cuticles which can be threaded, braided, locked, weaved, we’re are versatility reflected 

From the deepest brown eyes to the lightest blue eyes, cannot be categorized 

Yet society disregard that and we are characterized 

Criminalized, demonized, villainized, made out to be born murderous 

As if our birth was an atrocity to man-kind 

But when I read the Bible, like the Israelites I swear we are the chosen people, I made be delusional, but that’s my framed of mind 

For black bodies are God's creation 

A black body is a person that does all the work in a group project, but on the day of the presentation, got sick, so end up not getting recognition 

For America was built on the forced enslavement and hard labors of black bodies 

But historians seem to have amnesia, so we get no honorable mention 

We are engulfed with the energy of cheerful fans in a football stadium 

But is mistaken for the thunder and lightning of a storm 

Yet as Tupac said, we are roses that grew from concrete 

From the sorrows of the lynching of our ancestors, our history is not complete 

No, it’s only the beginning from a dark tragic past 

To a dignified future as bright as the sun's rays shining during a sunrise 

No longer accepting your false claims 

If the lynching didn’t kill us, your Jim crows laws ricochet off our bodies like bullets, your systematic oppression didn’t stop us, what can stop us? 

For we mix emerald, gold, and titanium, strong enough to endure the collection of your hatred 

Yet, realizing we are all powerful and fuel with the source of a mighty lion and tigress hybrid 

With the power of melanin, we are healers, enable to cure diseases with one dose of our black girl magic 

Too afraid of that power, so like cowards, turn my black brothers to ghost in panic 

Leaving behind fatherless children in grief, the greatest sin one can commit 

For Grief is like being extremely homesick but knowing your home no longer exists 

From R.I.P Philando Castille, Justice for Trayvon, don't you see? 

They are turning us into only a hashtag 

But we are more than a hashtag 

We are warriors fighting and winning for our rights to exists 

In a world that where ignorance and ridicule persists 

Don’t worry though, this was prophesied

For black bodies are God's creation 

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This poem is about: 
Our world

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