Black, I am black,
so is my beating heart,
made of the darkest elements
of the earth,
With the faintest struggles of breath
Black, I will be black,
in my death,
I am black,
I know not west,
if my scale is scraped,
beneath is another vest,
Of black soils that flows through my vains,
The particles that molded my pains,
and the tumor that drives me insane
Black, my tears are black,
though invisible,
yet they fall dark,
the taste of it, is not salty,
like the beach waters,
rumbling whitish,
but of agonising throb and sorrow,
boiling volcano lava,
underneath the oppressing earth
Black, I am black,
My body soul and wealth,
across the seas and the oceans,
in costume of my predators,
in the tongue of my tormentors,
Black, I am black,
faraway and back.
©iam.a.poet
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