Black is my people
who cry themselves to sleep
due to starvation.

Being black is an honour
because it comes from greatness.
Black is my golden colour
wrapped in the beauty of the sun.

Black is my weapon against a world of misery.
No money in the world could wipe away
the richness of my blackness.
Black is my power to stay, for many reasons.
Black is beautiful, like my dad’s choice
to love my beautiful golden black mother.

The richness of black
are the mountains that
nurtured me growing up.

The richness of black
is our definition of uniqueness.
Black are my people
who cried themselves to sleep
after the struggle.

Black is the smell of celebrating
the fragile power of beauty.
The richness of black is our generation
still to come keeping the legacy.

I will remain black
because it saved me from horror.
My blackness is the reason
I am grateful to be alive.

The richness of black
is rich.
The richness of black is the smell
of knowing you are home.
Black is my hair that gives me
my crown to rule our kingdom.
Black is my forefathers’
mountain of praise
that attracts my eyes
to see the beauty of nature.

The richness of black
are the roots of that living tree.
My blackness is my reason
to root down and humble myself
before the people six feet down there,
trying to fight for my blackness to stay alive.

The richness of black
is my reason not to bleach it
but to polish our broken trees.
The richness of black is the reason
we have different shades of black
showing the different beauties of black.
Black is my way of staying
for me being born black.

I will remain black
till my last goodbyes to my family.

Black is king.
We are all kings and queens.
We are the brown soil people
who were moulded in love.