It only took me 22 to years to not fear.

If you were the person I need you to be, you would be here now. I would tell you how they burned down a mosque in Texas and that my heart is breaking and what I believe and those who stand for it are the same people who burnt down a place of worship.

See, if you were the person God wanted for me, I would tell you how I know I’m not meant to have children anytime soon because I refuse to raise babies in a time where this man is our president.

If you were the person that I dreamed you up to be, you would tell me everything that could calm me down and maybe you’d believe in prayer for a second and pray for this place with me, pray for our nation and this devastating power that has it seized.

Prayer for our leader to be surrounded by Godly men and women, pray for him to know Christ and how the God I worship is a God of peace. How my God does not shun those who leave but calls them back and welcomes them with open arms, freely.

This is not a love poem.

This is an outcry of me wanting to make a change in a world where injustice is happening right inside our doors and I have no power to do anything.

If you were the man I fell in love with three years ago…That’s not even correct. More and more as I draw closer to God, as I rever being alone, I realize who I fell in love with was only a dream. I felt heartbreak at the thought of being lonely & you left me and there was nobody.

And yes I wrote it out. And yes there was so much on the point of obsession and yes, I don’t 100% regret it, because it was coping, because it made me who I am, even if I still fall for the same kind of man.

But you see, I am alone right now. I am breaking at the thought of our country’s future and yet I am dreaming and chasing goals that I can reach without the distraction of you and know that He will take care of me.

As tragedy strikes and you’re not here to calm the nerves, I know, more than ever, I’m where God wants me and needs me to be.

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“Write it for the Rest of Us”

“To All Black Girls:
We finally see you.
We value you now.
Know you’re loved.
Know you’re beautiful.
Know you’re worth——”

To All Black Girls:
Shit that white people say:
We FINALLY see you.
We value you NOW.

Tell me, sister,
when you were carrying the burden of having too much melanin,
did it give you hope to know there was a future where we might see you as human?
Tell me,
sister,
did you know how many of your loved ones and your kin would have to die
before we finally stopped turning away our eyes?
Did you see the injustices of both sides and feel your worth growing?

To All Black Girls:
Sing me your song.
Tell me of the children you lost,
The culture you buried,
the hair you cut because it did not lay straight.
Remind me of the way your body was pillaged like a village,
and all of those who tried to defend you
were either hung up or burned at the stake.
Tell me about the times you saw a body
doused in gasoline AND swaying.
Tell me of the hatred of my own men.

Tell me they were blind then.
Tell me they did not devalue you because of the color of your skin.

To All Black Girls:
I am senses wide open .
I hear the hallelujahs rising instead of the wailing.
I see you raising your eyes to up above.
I’m listening to the swelling of your lungs.
I feel the movement of you linking arms and rising up.
Shouting along with you:
“I am here.
I am human.
I am enough.”

That should be enough.

And yet,
shit that white people say:
#alllivesmatter
when death after death was occurring,
and we refused to acknowledge unless it was a white baby found in a garbage bag, but we would have to face facts.
Footage of Ferguson was playing daily in the news
Chance of thundershowers mixed with a cry of “Hands Up; Don’t Shoot”.
If #alllivesmatter
why did we did not choose to raise our voice
until the riots were among us and we were fighting to join them,
white skin congregating with a blackness we exiled
because privilege is granted
due to name and a designated white womb.
We are constantly advancing ‘cause of of lack of pigment
and you are silenced though we brought you over to put you to use,
yet we are mad when you prosper and want to produce
change.

Us White People:
We hate it when things don’t stay the same.
When the tides shift and so does the power,
when we are deserving of all the bad titles.

To All Black Girls:
I am finally apologizing.

To All Black Girls:
Can you forgive me now?