THE BLOG

Made Of Black

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10/02/2017 04:55 SAST | Updated 10/02/2017 04:55 SAST
Tila Nomvula Mathizerd

My ancestors' struggle deluges my pigmentation turning it dark

Their tears water the pasture of knotted copper-wire upon my dome

Their plea for dignity is the collagen that fills my lips

Each sorrowful breath they took plumps my nostrils and before He, whose skin is pale, feeds me bullets I wish to take off my skin made of black.

As I look into His barrel I stand strong, unwaveringly because

although my ancestors' light sinks into the horizon their resolve strengthens me

And hope stems from the cracks of my mental oppression

Resilience shoots from my core when I realise God dwells in the matter that blackens me

That's why they fear me

Peace reigns

Pride becomes me

Finally freedom finds me caressing my skin made of black

And for every kitchen worked & land ploughed, every drop of blood & sweat may we have a lifetime of prosperity. Amen.