For the Love of Black Women and Poetry
A Poem
Fever is running high
because the world wants to commodify everything we’ve got.
Resilience is running low
when our backbones are used like a universal crutch.
As far as we have come —
disparity is still real,
representation is not equity, there is more than masks and bullet proof glass —
between the world and us.
Descendants of mitichondrial Eve —
deserve to be affirmed with actions that create ease,
with actions that stop us from waiting to exhale —
and just let us breathe.
Our energy is a currency.
The state of the world needs to manage its expectations,
not everything we do will be magical and extraordinary —
there should be space to recognise the everyday and the ordinary.
Still, what a time to be young, gifted and Black.
Little sis showed out, met the moment with poetic justice —
and unapologetically did all of that.
Worthy of all praise — no doubt,
but even a rising midnight sun —
needs rest, peace and unadulterated fun.
So, here it comes, a new dawn —
quietly breaking out of a busy sky.
Shards of light falling across these collective pieces of you and I.
Bathed in hues of grey and blue wrapped in winters breeze,
here it comes —
the top of our yellow sun peeking over the horizon to call us back on.
Once more, there are fires to put out —
after bridges have been burned,
there are floods to hold back,
there are more storms over deserts and more lessons to be learned.
Once more, there are habits to break and behaviours to unlearn,
foolish things to put away,
treachery to be called out and hearts to be examined.
Still, there are stolen lives that require restitution
for burdens to be laid to rest.
Say less and do more to affirm your love.
For the love of Black women —
who dry their own tears as they hold up the other half of the sky,*
raise us up if you dare to be the light.
The morning has broken,
we are ready and open and would love to see it.
Be mindful,
this is still a time for moments that will incite rage to take centre stage,
after an extended reign that beckoned more unrest and distrust —
yes gratitude is a must but hope and joy can still be temporarily lost.
We don’t owe softness on demand
to a hard world that has conveniently tied its bloodied hands
after pushing us down to our knees.
It has been said —
that the diaspora has been holding its breath for the last four years,
but I suspect, what is closer to the truth —
is breaths have been held subconsciously for centuries.
Freedom is ours — we know what it means.
For the love of Black women under and outside of the spotlight,
you are never unseen to me —
you are my default as I wake and when I dream.
*Taken from a quote from the former president of Burkina Faso — Thomas Sankara: ‘The revolution and women’s liberation go together. We do not talk of women’s emancipation as an act of charity or out of a surge of human compassion. It is a basic necessity for the revolution to triumph. Women hold up the other half of the sky.’
