Author Archives: Samara Marie

Sincere Thank You

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It’s nearing the end of 2014. Another year has come and gone. The time has come for me to say my “Thank You” to everyone. I truly appreciate you taking the time to visit my site, liking my posts, and leaving comments for me. I don’t consider myself a poet, but poetry has been a way of expressing my thoughts and coping with my emotions since I was a teenager.

2014 has been an emotional roller coaster for me and others around the world. I have certainly shed my share of tears out of both fear and sorrow. It may be my naive thinking, but as bleek as our “justice” system is here in the U.S., I still believe that one day we will have a such thing as a fair and just legal system, and we will all be free. I still have hope and stars in my eyes. If this is only a dream, then let me dream it to be able to carry on. Only time will tell if true justice will ever be seen.

While waiting for justice to show it’s face, in the meantime, my heart is weary and I’m tired. But still, I must move forward with my head held high.

In spite of the world’s cruelty and troubles, may 2015 be a productive and successful year for you all.

 

 

When Beautiful Black Turns To Blue

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My Feelings: When will you see me? See us? I can’t stop crying. No matter how righteous I live. No matter how educated I am. No matter how eloquent I speak. No matter how well dressed I am. I can go on and on about how well this, and how well that. Respectability means nothing, and I very well know it. Respectability will never save me from a bullet, and I know it. Nor will it ever shield me from the cruelty of white supremacy. No matter how much of a good human being I am, I’ll always be seen to some folk as an animal. A savage. A gang member. Uneducated. Sub human. A thing to be murdered, and tossed away like garbage, as if my life is worthless. When folk see the color of my skin, they don’t see me. They don’t see us. They see only what they’ve been taught to see and know. It’s America as I’ve grown to understand it. Sad. And I’ll spend the rest of my life fighting against a system that insists on fighting against me.

My heart weeps of sorrow,

In the darkest hour of the night.

Tears are shed inside,

Deep within my soul.

Yet, my tears can be seen and felt.

The weight of an unjust world

Has taken its toll.

It rests upon my shoulders,

And the load is much too heavy.

I’m tired,

As my weakened heart barely beats.

My heartache is too much to stand.

America has been killing me consistently.

A slow death it has been.

No knife to the heart.

No bullet to the dome.

Injustice will be my demise.

Won’t even have time to bid thee farewell.

Another black body blows in the dust.

It’s a sad song about us.

It’s about me.

It’s about you.

It’s what happens when black changes it’s hue.

It’s what happens when beautiful black turns to blue.

See Me

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What do you see when you see me?

An intelligent woman whose free?

A poet with a knack for self expression?

A woman with the right to just be?

What song do you hear from my sweet voice?

Do I sing a song of misery?

Do I sing a song so unfamiliar to you?

Do I sing only of what you want to see?

What do you feel when we’re face to face?

Is it fear that enters your mind?

Or yet, an image of a thug or disgust?

If it is, then why can’t you feel my kind?

Even with endless cruelty, my heart still beats.

I walk forward with my head held high.

Walk with a fist in the air that you see as racist.

But I just call it solidarity, self love, and self pride.

What is it that you see within this body?

And why can’t you just see me?

From Anger Comes The Sun

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At times,
I want to fly away
And live amongst the stars.

To let my light shine,
And illuminate the Earth.
Bask in my own happiness.

To shoot over the moon,
Past orbital bliss,
And burst into fallen tears of joy.

When my heart beats
To the rhythm of love,
I become at peace amongst the day’s light.
I become one with the sun.

This Mahogany Brown

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This deep color.
This mahogany brown.
Hue so lovely, so divine.
Beneath it, through the veins of glory,
Runs my history.
My story.
My place in this here world.
This mahogany brown.
Behold what was made.
With this shade, comes all of my kinks and curves
That Mother Africa proudly preserves.
This mahogany brown.
A shield of honor that I’ll always defend.
You emulate this deep, brown skin.
Yet, you never love the skin I’m in.