God help me to be free.
God I want to be seen for me.
God please be with me…
May I not meet a fate such as what we’ve seen.
With black hands tied in pleasant knots in front of me,
I pray they’ll know I’m not threatening, and as kind as can be.
Let my lungs expand deeply to release the pressure in my chest,
As the sinking thought of who I am to them persist;
Father, release me from the words “less than;”
From that time I dated someone of a different complexion.
When I realized that because of my very dark skin,
I’d always be hidden from their family like a secret sin.
An internal timer ticks incessantly now as I wait;
Silent words stay lodged in my throat, hoping one day they’ll relate;
Piercing me from the depths of my inner self to my outer core,
Over time these are the types of things that will hardly make me sore;
If a black body is worth losing over a counterfeit $20 bill,
What more, or what less, is a black mind to be priced at still?
Don’t go into that store.
Don’t play your music loud.
Don’t open your mouth.
Don’t look like you are proud.
Don’t…
Unless you can erase the color of your skin;
I am submerged in my blackness;
With no way to rise out of that being.
Blackness is seen, but our value’s overlooked.
Blackness is seen, even when we try to hide.
My reflection remains like their obscured thoughts of my intentions.
My reflection sometimes translates into misguided opinions.
Father, would you stretch out your hand towards me?
Father, would you stretch me as you see fit, but still let me fit in?
I wish I knew a world where it was safe,
To have a bad day and not be “abnormal;”
Or “threatening;”
Or “the angry black woman;”
But for now I’ll just stay in my place;
With desperate pleas in my “please” and “thank you’s.”
Maybe they’ll like me better then.
And maybe that’s how it’s always been.
So I’ll return to my home to unpack all the thoughts;
In a sacred place where my hurt will not be hurried.
Yet somehow, after some time, I’ll go back to tucking it all in;
By practicing again in the mirror how to wear a pleasant grin.
Somewhere between truth and lie while dancing on that thin line,
We fall over the edge and start to uncover what lies beneath.
Truth is cold and bare, with a sharp, bitter taste;
Exposing the things we don’t see in our lives filled with haste.
Only there in the the dark spot marked with discomfort,
Can we see where the light is disrupted from getting in.
Only there in the the dark spot marked with discomfort,
Can we start to plot how to let the light in.
Father, forgive me for giving up too early at times.
Father, help me to activate the boldness within.
God help me to be free.
God I want to be seen for me.
God please be with me…
May I not meet a fate such as what we’ve seen.
Poetry and Illustration by Jannifer Kibe
