I am my ancestors
Our hair, soft as clouds Our eyes, the color of soil Our lips plump like fruit Our body, curvy as hills I walk with my ancestors as if
they’ve never left, hand in hand, feet grounded in dirt, the sun bathing our melanated skin. I raise my voice, hands and soul for the ones who couldn’t and those who can’t. I stand sturdy, for my feet are weights and my body, the message; We are not colors, We are not numbers, We are people I am my ancestors, my eyes theirs to use, my voice, the wind, and their history, leaves. Our will for a better world travels like pollen on the back of bees. The flowers being those who listen and our words being planted in a soft green field soon to be a meadow. I am history I’m living proof of change for all little girls and boys, to not fear the future and not hide the past. To never doubt their skin for being too dark, their hair too curly, too big,or too much To not fear themselves for having a life God designed by hand with the help from our mothers. We Are Our Ancestors By MéShyia Bradshaw
FASHION BY DILLARDS
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