Black Cotton #5 I Am Alive
I am black fists.
I wear my melanin as protest and hair as defiance.
I am southern trees that bear strange fruit.
The one whose grandfathers' got away.
I am a runaway.
For my ancestors fought their way North from plantations
long before slavery was over.
I am my mother's daughter.
Loud and proud and proud and loud
I am refusing silence.
I remembered my voice and tongue and pen.
I am woman and black. Black and woman
I was woman long before I learned to spell girl.
I am the keeper.
Of my own history
I rewrote the white man's song
Crossed out his praises
And replaced his lies with my truth.
I am living proof
That through plantations,strange fruit,and black fists,
We will not be silenced
And we are
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