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It’s haaaaaaaaaaaaard to be Black
I pray it will be better
Yesterday (many years ago)
My ancestors, in this land
Were shackled, chained, fettered
Today, in this land
I can open doors
In many lofty rooms
Also, today, in this land
Sundown roadside stops
Too often spell Black doom
We fought a fight
And thought equality was won
We watch stark videos
That prove the job’s not done
Ancestors cried
For life, liberty, and happiness
We are charged to continue the fight
So we can finish
This mess

Come dressed
In righteousness
No lies
No duress
Say less

Love more


I ask:

Why is it that I write best when in pain?
Then, when I come back to those words, I relive the guilt that I am here
While others no longer remain.
It’s as though I write in efforts to regain and retain
Precious lives that have slipped into eternal gain.

Shame answers:

Selfish, Foolish Pen. They are safe. Heaven was theirs to win.
Write most for those and yourself that you all might enter in…

Not Untouched

So evidently, we are not untouched. Injustices live here. My students told me, they who are young and full of promise, and now I have seen for myself… I am teacher, mother, aunt, friend, and I am angry.



How much sense does a charge of resisting arrest make when there has been no other charge for arrest? How can you manufacture a situation which allows you to see what is clearly not there and still expect to be…


No, indeed.

No indeed.

…than yourself

Reflect on that which is…


Noble than yourself
Richer than yourself
Cleaner than yourself
Deeper than yourself
Fuller than yourself
Stronger than yourself
Rooted than yourself
Truer than yourself
Intuitive than yourself
Nurturing than yourself
Invested than yourself
Loving than yourself
Accepting than yourself
Accepting of yourself
Divine than yourself…

…while there is yet time.

Do this for yourself.
Edify. Study. Learn. Grow.
Become more like that which is
Part of a healing, feeling
Remedy of Light

La Profesora’s Pen