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Let Your Heartbreak

 Black women where does your pain lie. 

You are hardened like a rock and fabricate your strength so easily.

Cold  weeps beside the moon, when will those tears stop falling.

When will the cycle of these generational curses cease. 

How can I ever find me without knowing you. Black mama cold, silent, and bruised.

Let your hearts break Iyana says, Let your heart break! 


Crumble, fail, fall and start anew. Let those wounds bleed every ounce of regret, 

Cry those tears of past neglect, heal your heart because  struggle is something we are all 

bound too. Leave your soul bare, and let the universe breath life back into you

 black women don't be so timid, don't throw too many facades, let down your braids and let your heartbreak.

Let it break, let it crumble, let it down, so like gravity it will rise back up again. 






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The Help

My BLACK IS

My black is beautiful. My black is powerful. My black is intellectual and spiritual.  My black is white, brown, green, yellow, and purple. My black Is universal; a movement to the moon.  My black is a song: a rhythmic blues. My black is strong and unapologetic. My black is love and hate tied bitterly sweet. My black is pleasurably pain. My black is momentum, my black is silently pleasant and loudly intolerable. My black is deep like blue and curvy like spoons. My black is still water and moving tides. My black is closely and remotely Beautiful.

Home

He felt like home. Like grandpa’s hugs and granny’s kisses. Like a  school bus ride home, and  evening sunsets. Like afternoon Lunch with your Best-friends. He felt like home. Arms with an instant ease of peace, chocolate lips And a grin so sweet. He felt like ice cream on a summers day. He felt like a sunshine ray , and a Shooting stars runaway. He felt like home He felt like  Twilight, New Moon, and Breaking Dawn. He was was as high as the sky  and as bright as Nebula. He felt like why have I never felt this way before? He felt like a shower after a long day at work, like back-rubs And bath bomb soap . He felt like India’s Aries “Brown skin…  I can’t tell where mines is and where yours begins”. He felt like hopes redeeming  and pains end. He felt like home. Of course felt is past tense. But it’s still memorizing to dream of who we used to be. The trauma that can Happen when direct and in-direct meet. Like I’m saying things I don’t mean Because you act a certai

No Ethnicity

By: Jasmine Hudspeth