When my mom combs my hair, I can feel generations of black women whispering to me through my coils. Every time the comb gets stuck, they say, come on now, baby, pull through and every time my mom creates a part, they begin to hum a song. In my youth, when I was extremely tender headed, I cried often, and they would whisper, be strong, child. Now, I still sit on the ground, between my mother’s knees, and my hair tells me secrets. It sighs softly and says, well aren’t you beautiful. It curls in close and confides, I can do so much more than you even know.

Who ever said darkness was a bad thing

when it helps me sleep at night

and cools the earth and takes the light

signaling that the world goes round alright

It must of been people who let the dark boss them around

and turn their world upside down

It must have been people who can’t see

through the darkness that strengthens you and me.

To all the people who want to banish it

and wish to see the darkness go-

what will you do when the sun starts to glow

but your happiness will begins to slow

What will you do when you realize that darkness

still exists in the shadows, of the sun you’ve come to know?

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if it looks like i’ve been crying all day,

it’s because i have.

tears and tears to wash away

all the pain i’ve ever had.

tears and tears for all the brown girls

who’ve ever been treated bad.

tears and tears that swirl and twirl

even when i’m glad

Because, my god

there’s nothing that’s more sad

than treasures and treasures of brown girls
whose life has drove them mad

Why is it that when you find one bug on you

and quickly brush it off

you come to find a million little phantom bugs

crawling up your arms

and down your legs?

Why is it that when one person makes you feel small

you begin to believe them all?

At my feet there are a million little ants

and in my dreams they slowly crawl up my arms

and down my legs

and when I wake up

ants are still hanging from my eyelashes