Sing to me in colors Ruth Wilson
Of the stories you write within your clothes
Bring me out from the garden of the dreary into the sun
You hear the stories that could stay mere echoes
Bring them up from the water, the dirt, and sand
Pulling nature around - beautiful equality - rich, damp Earth
In the stories you write, no one is separate
You built a unique tapestry of stories
Shared songs and chants, colorful turbans, and spirits that haunt
The cursed slaves ships
You touch each person that walks along the cusp of rebellion
With music, dignity, and their pride
Lead me back into Africa
A people forced on their backs
The weight of a nation they never wanted to fight for
Bring back the tall towers of Wakanda
Rich tribal legacy leading into the future
Respect for all life
Not just an intimate few
Every day is a struggle
To be solved
For characters that speak as much in their appearance as their words
Fixing the finishing touches of a moving painting
To be part of a cultural legacy
How does it feel
To spring imagination into the minds of many?
To know their studied histories live and breathe
In every wardrobe you've woven
Your mannequins stand around as if ready to jump to life
Ready to tell the stories of hidden histories
These histories, unveiled every single day, for years to come
YOU ARE READING
The Last Mermaid
PoetryEver had a dream you confused with life? Ever feel yourself slipping away into the waves? Ever feel that you've just gathered wings to fly away from this mess? Well... you have. You may be one of the last mermaids. Part anthology, part diary of grie...
