They can never make me hate my Black
Because what you thought was a “show” was really a conjuring
An activation of ancient tongue disturbing the stardust lying in wait on our skin.
Wisdom and signposts left by our ancestors now awakened.
They can never make me hate my Black
Deeply embedded in the rivers and streams that carried our grandparents
Polishing rocks with messages of hope and strength.
Maps for us to retrieve.
Look, see.
This is how we moved silently through wooded hills in the dark of night. Follow the footsteps we left for you – only you can find the waterways that carried us. Learn the secret sounds and calls that helped us find each other. Update them for today. Prepare for the others’ arrival.
They can never make me hate my Black
Because what you thought was a show was really a summoning
Indiscernible to your ear but necessary for your survival.
Courtney M. McSwain, Feb. 9, 2025