Black Girl Magic


She rocks her hair

Short and curly

Or long and straight 

Really… she can do it all. 

With her ample lips 

That complement her wide hips

She overcomes every obstacle 

To create, shape and fill her destiny. 

She is aware of her call. 

To birth all of humanity

To her family she brings sanity

She’s the glue of her community

She is why we understand real unity 

She’ll be the reason we are liberated from poverty

She’s so down to earth, but so out of this world at the same time. 

Just like her hair defies gravity,

She defies the odds and it’s truly mind blowing. 

Intersectionality shows her doubly oppressed identity

It’s hard to understand how she could be 

Amongst the most educated social group

With all of her degrees 

And still takes care of family

Most don’t get it

Because they can’t do it. 

You see, she gets her strength from the most high God. 

His strength allows her to do this with ease so it doesn’t look hard.

She’s smart, talented, resilient, and beautiful. 

With all those facets, I get why they call her magical. 

One Day…


Look at the chest

Make sure it’s still moving. 

Up and down it goes 

Sometimes the breathing is fast

Sometimes it slows 

You watch with hope,

But in the back of your mind is the nagging of the inevitable.

One day…

It’s gonna stop.

This life that once brought you joy 

Will soon cease to exist 

All that will be left is that dull pain in your chest 

That used to be filled with their presence, but you’re left behind to remember their essence

“It’s not so bad,” they say. 

The hole will be filled and

You’ll feel whole again… 

One day.

The Dichotomy of Artistry


I started writing because I was going through things that I did not know how to express. Somehow, though, when I put my pen to the paper I was suddenly articulate. Something about writing for an audience made me remember that I wasn’t alone in my suffering. Something about writing for an audience made it all worth it.

I didn’t want anybody to know there was a problem, but the only way to deal with the problem was to tell somebody. When I started writing, it forced me to find the lesson. When I found the lesson, it made the pain make sense. Sorta…

So I write to expose the wound

To clean the wound

To let it breathe

So it doesn’t get infected

and cause unnecessary sickness

So that I can remember that I’m not

the only one in this

And I get to look back and see

That I’ve been through this before a time or two or three

And just like I learned before,

This isn’t the end of me.


Waiting For Tomorrow


Tomorrow I might die. 

Tomorrow might be the best day of my life

Tomorrow I might meet my spouse

Tomorrow I might decide to look for a house 

Tomorrow I might watch a movie

Tomorrow I might take a class 

Tomorrow I might read a book 

Tomorrow I might take out the trash

I have some plans 

But what tomorrow holds I don’t know

I will make an agenda, but I’ll put my real focus on today though. 

I’ll get some things done now because today I have for certain

I spent my life waiting for tomorrow and honestly it hasn’t be worth it. 


And She Was Beautiful


I hadn’t seen you in quite some time

I didn’t realize how much I missed you until you walked by

Something about you looked different, but I couldn’t place my finger

But I was trying not to be rude so I didn’t let my eyes linger

That’s when she walked over

A teeny tiny version of you

I would’ve known that face anywhere

She looked like she was about two

Those eyes

That nose

Her hair

Oh, her jet black curly hair!

I wanted to stop you

I wanted to talk 

But I couldn’t get my feet to move

They had forgotten how to walk

No words would come out

I gave talking my best try

All I could seem to get out was a soul cleansing cry 

Because I saw you today and

You’re a mommy now. 

I figured you would be, but of course I was cynical. 

But for myself, I saw your baby girl

And she was beautiful.