Thee art of being black, thee art of fighting back there is no art, just good consequence for years of forced silence.
Thee art of speaking up, thee art of making luv there is no art, just connection and that initiate want for protection.
Thee art of running scared, thee art of being unprepared there is no art, just honouring because we have become more intolerant.
Thee art of believing, remembering and never forgetting our dna is fused with the sun, our eyes reflect the moon
Thee art of revisiting old wounds, the art of healing the things that no longer serve us, there is no art, just the respect, the crave to visit the transcendental destination are souls secretly want to take a peek at.
It’s far away but I can feel it coming, lifting. Opening. Rising. Soon she says. Soon he says. Soon they say. Soon I pray.
About the Creator
Ruhani Khadijah
you're welcome to stroll through my garden 🌱
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The 21st Tsunami
I hate being in crowds. I love the rush of being in a crowd, but I hate the idea of following the crowd. I'd look amongst myself and realise that we're all going in the same direction, we're all following the same instructions. Most people nowadays are so used to this tsunami that they don't even look up. What seems like millions of heads some above, some below all following the same current. The scary thing is many many people have been taken by the strong current, it's now their world and its dark, the deeper they drown the thicker the dark surrounds. But they can see and they can breath beautifully underneath it.
By Ruhani Khadijah6 years ago in Poets
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