Sonnet 08: Celebrating Black Grandeur

In liberty's realm, we bear a cross of might, Our skin, a testament to trials that tower high. Injustice, a tempest, a loss that rages in the night, Yet, in our hearts, resilience roars like thunder in the sky. Racism, a monstrous shadow, a venomous haze, A brutal echo of the world's scornful refrain. Yet, we soar above the maze, ablaze, Every scar transformed, a phoenix's triumphant gain. Against the torrents of hate, we stand as towers, Our spirit unyielding, an unbroken form. In every right and wrong, we bloom like midnight flowers, We find the power to reshape, to transform. For being Black transcends mere pain's domain, A symphony of strength, a perennial refrain. In the heart of the midnight, a constellation bold, A diadem of stars upon our regal heads. Ebony skin, where tales of valor are told, Kissed by the sun, a flame that never sheds. Black, not a curse, but a throne of grandeur, A monument of endurance etched in our frame. Resilience, a tapestry woven with fervor, We rise, our brilliance, an everlasting flame. Proudly we stand beneath the cosmic dome, Our heads held high, an anthem to the night. Our indomitable spirit, a meteoric poem, Our identity, a battle cry burning bright. For being Black is not a source of shame, But a crown adorned with pride, in life's bold game.