The ebbs and flows of that Black Girl Magic
Don’t let them frame the narrative It may be sad but never tragic Our essence is a constant source Merely resituating existences Something like that soul force We don’t need physical aids for you to feel this power The fertilization process… The beauty of that flower That Black Girl Magic Yeah it ebbs and flows The recurring, rhythmic pattern Of the Blackness it glows The power in the beauty On our faces it shows Hidden in our vault Trapped in our gait Dissected, lynched, and maimed Many have tried to replicate No bullet can penetrate This Blackness No one can take The last breath Of that beautiful dream The one that keeps us saying long live the King Land of the free because of our brave Reflecting on that ultimate sacrifice that our ancestors gave Maya said it the best I am the hope and the dream of the slave The Black Girl Magic? Yeah, the recipe is intact Give em a little taste Sprinkle some of this..Some of that… So where did it come from So many narratives they omit The secrets been locked away But at creation we were equipped We’re the yin to our own yang You need a decipher to get The things you can’t discern The likeness you can’t perceive The misinterpretations Is a reason that we constantly have to grieve Say Her Name The list keeps growing Its like an awful dream But their spirits are with us Long live these queens Tanisha, Miriam, Sarah Lee, Aiyana Bettie, Yvette, Sharon, Darnesha Alberta, Shantel, Jessie, Rekia Sandra, Meagan, and now sweet Gynnya
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Authorfrom the poetic mind of Olivia Keene...(my mama gave me that pen name) Archives
March 2017
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