A Love Letter to my Tribe

I am a child of the Geechee Gullah

Born from a freshwater mother.

From her womb, I’m a labor of love.

She gave me a culture they don’t want to think of.

It’s a history of shame

To oppressors unnamed.

But her foremothers’ survival

Is an undenied revival.

To our country’s origins,

We remain a reminder.

We retell our stories

Into a future not kinder.

Not kinder to those of my color.

This skin remains in pain

From DNA overexposed

From stealing free gains.

How do you steal what’s been so free?

“Buckras” simply forced it to be.

From land, to ancestry,

To birthrights and our dignity.

I’m grounded by their shame.

My Ancestors are left to be a theory.

I know they have the answers

To my bloodlines’ query.

It’s like my tribe is in limbo.

Forced into another form of oppression.

Generations have endured.

I live in this sick obsession.

I am told I have power

Due to my bloodlines.

My offspring are like flowers.

Resilient in body and mind.

I see their flaws and

Their worthy imperfections

They are born from strong mothers.

They are the answer to progression.

My heart aches for what they will see.

A world where they simply will have to be brave.

Through tears and inherited grief.

But beauty they will create with the love that I gave.

They will have the advantage

To take this world forward.

It’s our kind of women,

That can face oppression unbothered.

They can feel from all corners

They will be protected by prayers.

Lifted from darkness

Beyond our past despairs.

And I am their guardian,

An honorable station.

This alone, keeps me confident.

And my spirit emblazoned.

We will face this evil world together.

Disenfranchised and fortified.

Empowered by who we are.

Where we come from is a destined tribe.