Somewhere along the Mississippi River writing stories in an open diary...
Today, I don’t plan to share an experience of racism with you. Instead, I’m going to attempt sharing something more.
My existence. Rather, the experience of racism as an existence.
“To be a Negro in this country and to be relatively conscious, is to be in a rage almost all the time.”
Salute the sun for all she has accomplished.
To love with her kiss, her light yields my darkness.
Applaud her golden rays for this mystic hue.
And praise her Creator for His vision, too.