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Poem

In realms of ink and solitude I dwell,
A poet's soul, an ancient tale to tell.
Within these words, my heart bleeds sincere,
Of being a poet, black and without fear.
Like twilight's symphony, my rhyme awakes,
A melodic dance, where beauty takes shape.
Freely I divulge the thoughts that reside,
In realms of darkness where dreams do confide.

With every verse that pours from my pen,
I embrace the rhythm of my melanin.
Words painted in hues of strength and might,
A tapestry formed of ebony and light.
My voice, a beacon in a world so vast,
Telling tales of struggles from the distant past.
Through verses, I reclaim my heritage's voice,
Each stanza, a testament, a powerful choice.
I bleed emotions with every uttered line,
Exploring the depths of what it means to be mine.
Warrior, poet, at this intersection I stand,
Defying stereotypes, breaking each command.
From Langston's wisdom to Maya's truths,
To Gwendolyn's grace, unyielding in pursuit.
In their footsteps, I walk, weaving my own verse,
Steeped in resilience, haunted by the curse.
But within these words, I find solace and peace,
An instrument of change, a path to release.
For poetry is a bridge, connecting souls,
Celebrating unity, making us whole.

As a poet, black, I stand tall and free,
Speaking with cadence, embracing my ancestry.
Through the power of words, my voice takes flight,
A pen, my weapon, against injustice's blight.
So let my ink flow, unbounded and true,
For my existence, my heritage, and my hue.
A poet, black, unafraid to embrace,
The beauty within, the courage to chase.

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