This poem was written to commemorate black history month from a creative view point of this author and is not to be taken as a personal or political statement of endorsement of any recent events or accounts. The use of any excerpts of this poem must be requested in writing at firstname.lastname@example.org and approved by this author and P.U.S.H. Publishing Inc.
Just when did my color come under attack? Don’t you know creativity could never take shape on any canvas without the color black. I’ll never come to understand why they hate us for being black. To a point where diversity is even under attack. All for sake of a beautiful color called black. For black is beautiful, rich in character, full of power and pride. Yet expected to stay silent or worse hide. Black fills the sky’s with the peace of night while stars twinkle off in the soft moon light. Black is cool, calm, collected, full of style and Grace with swag like none other capable of taking its place. Black eagles or black doves see black is, as black was, black power enriched black love, black is as black does, black children formed out of black love. My black face, my black words, my touch, my love, my hopes, my dreams whether black kings or black queens dare not go silent in the night. Black is brilliant in darkness as well as light. Take your rightful place and hold your head up high for hate is short lived and love could never die. See black is as black does created to be seen, heard, and loved made in his image, the mighty God above.