BLACK

This is my proclamation of representation.

I let the pen skip lines of concerned waiting.

The way things are headed, dark showers of lead.

Dark flowers springing from black soil in my head.

I’m black, as the visions you see at the end of life.

I’m black, as the true value of a companies’ stock price.

I’m black, as the hoodie you pull up around midnight.

I’m black, as dying lungs and jazz pieces that have yet to be sung.

She said ‘bury me in berries’

-but I’d barely known a woman so contemporary.

Black is beautiful, but often portrayed as scary.

The poor traits leave a poor trail of portrayals

Create a narrative of utility; not everything’s for sale.

In fact let me sail down her stream of thought.

Past Huckleberry Finn’s and Bo-jangled plots.

Till a ‘full stop’ seems like her eyes; black dots.

Lost in her essence, what a beautiful surprise.

Trying to understand the meaning without being demeaning.

Perhaps the struggle we all face is trying to see you the way you see me.

Existence is not free but I’m trying very hard to not become a commodity.

So speak your truth, no apologies, not to be controlled by monetary fees.

I’d rather bend the rules than bend my knees.

So I as look into your eyes.

I understand what you meant when you said

‘Bury me in berries’