I often wonder. Will life bring pain or laughter? Will I be seen or shattered? Can I be me or does that matter?
Either way my blackness has a master.
I want to serve Him well.
Sorrow sometimes clouds my devotion. I wait on the rain to cease while America continues to paint a picture that doesn’t quite look like me.
Or maybe it does.
My mind is uncertain. I recall the day George couldn’t breathe and all I could think about was my brother. Then I thought about my skin. Then I pictured my hair. My nose and my thighs.
I wondered if it made a difference then I remembered my eyes.
The truth could never lie.
I often wonder. Why do we have the same heart beat? Why do we have the same lungs? Why is it that my nostrils inhale and exhale? the difference is none.
Why are we alike and you make difference your gun?
Shooting at your kin when God thought of us before the earth begun.
It is how you won, creating the game and sharing your the code.
But who knows…
I speak about my blackness. You redirect me.
I show my blackness. You settle me.
I take pride in my blackness. You TRY to humble me.
Honey, I am black and that won’t change.
God created this culture. I am amongst.
I often wonder, when will you realize that Christ was brown all along.