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The Blacker the better

Lets Continue to be Black Women in 2018

I want that streak of blackness to cover me with no apologies — with the grip of authority that makes me shimmer in the sunlight when the beams ask permission to bathe my lengthened template. I need the reassurance of purity without the dishonest ecstasy of interference from lightened agents or the mixtures that carry the symbols of wasted opulence — that only dilutes the formulaic excellence of native potency.

I need to continue to strive for the broadest spectrum of bridges that lead to the shape of memory that lifts the veil of deceit — locked in the burrows of imprisoned tutelage — dictating the value of texture against the roughness of layers that are always buried with gifts of atonement.

The beauty of black — the darkest berry — with avalanches of juice that pour into the pores of our ripened thighs and the crevices of sacrifice — that remain open with the fluids of betrayal that never suffocate the gladness of trials — with the residue of spiritual recognition.

Always and forever — the joy of blackness and womanhood — connive to bribe me away from doubt or guilt. Forced allies lay-in-wait with measured haste — as Black women borrow from the past to build the present into the landscape of a climatic future — with the offerings of warriors that weren’t painted with scars for the sheer might of a spectacle.

I want to be a Black woman without the strain of explanations or the equation that needs to be carried over for the sum of things.

I need to be as black as possible and as womanly as I can convey — through the stripes of multi-colored braids or the breath of sensuality that is replicated with fail. I have to be black and dark in order to stand apart from the army of prototypes — that march to the beat of a drum that cowers in fright whenever the demands for justice overcomes the distilled comfort of foes.

I hope to continue to glow past the Whiteness of confusion and disillusion — as the ancestral spread of the covering that protects the frailty of souls — heightens the anthem of each step taken in the lightness of my ascent to where my sisters dwell with spatial halos as crowns of glory and might.

May we glow beyond the limitations of scope in the realm of our streamed destinies — that none can tear asunder.

Written by

Juggling Wordsmith. I have a lot to say! https://medium.com/membership https://www.patreon.com/Ezziegirl

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