A poem for sister Obama

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A poem for sister Obama

We were chosen

No stolen

Because of our strength

Our God given ability to not just survive

But strive

 

This is a soulful celebration

Of our resilience

Our ability to transcend beyond oppression

Our ability to be the light

The light that luminates

That brakes

That overwhelms

The darkness

 

A celebration of our ability to nurture

And grow life in the midst of the shadows of death

 

A celebration of our departure from meritocracy, submission, and false perceptions

That we are the symptom bearers of all negative statistics formulated and created as another form of black female oppression

 

This is a celebration of our ability to walk over trials like bridges over water

With our backs hunched over

From uplifting our sons and daughters

While breaking chains and crushing shackles

With our hair knotted

And our clothes all tattered

 

And still beautiful

Our skin dark complected

A color chosen from God’s pallet

We are ageless women

Our Melanin hides and  

Holds the secrets of our struggles

Behind flesh

Flesh used as a mask

To disguise

Our skin so pleasantly preserved

Like a badge of honor

Much like ancient Egyptian mummies providing

Proof of black excellence in existence

The truth of the mystery

Of whom we were and who we are to become

What honor is there in morning night’s fright?

We present paradise privilege with pageantry

So the world can’t see that we were affected by the fight

 

We have been tormented, raped, beat, abused, used and terrorized

We have experienced everything, but death

Because we live on

This is a legacy of triumph

 

We were dragged away from our tribes

And forced to speak a foreign tongue

We were separated by our roots

But united by

Tears, color, pain, hope and God

 

Wow black woman look what you have done

Moved from shanties, to shacks, to projects

On up to first lady

In charge of this nation

 

The very one that kept you segregated

Then separate and unequal

 

So we fight on

Armed with God’s promise

That the first shall be last and the last shall be first

 

And with love we overcome

The battles not over and the war is not won

But we celebrate each step

And this

Soulful Celebration!!!!

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Poetry is finer and more philosophical than history; for poetry expresses the universal, and history only the particular.

Aristotle (384 BC-322 BC) Greek philosopher.

HollyStar’s Poems (9)

Title Comments
Title Comments
Spring 0
A poem for sister Obama 0
soul 0
I walk 1
He needs this 0
Able and Cane 1
princess of the tribe 1
Devotions 0
Does He Dream of me 0