Dear Black Queen

Dear Black Queen,
Don’t fall to your knees.
I know life has been hard, but you have to breathe.
Inhale your legacy, exhale the pain.
There is still much left in this world for you to gain,
While triggered behind the scenes.
Your Afro remains full of those big dreams.
Hard to see them now; you started to see life through a black and white screen.
Your world was stripped of color before you learned what color means.
Your voice was taken from you before you could speak.
Oppression injected into the milk to birth you weak.
Generations of chains haunting you before you could know what freedom means.
Your shoulders get heavy; you have to break the generational curses too.
2020 living with subtle reminders of 1792.
But let me tell you something, young Black Queen:
You have the power to rise again.
Descendant of queens from the motherland.
Your skin, cocoa butter black magic.
Brown honey eyes, attractive like magnets.
Never forget your voice of beauty, voice of power.
Dear Black Queen, you are the most vibrant of all the flowers.
Plant your feet in the soil.
Stand firm in the wind.
Dance in the rain; let it water you, soak it in.
Absorb the light; feel the sun grow you beyond circumstance.