Yes I am pretty for a big girl but I am so much more!
Essence is her name; she emerges, basking in all of her glory
a comforting smile graces her face.
Undeniable beauty, smooth, caramel-colored skin, almond shaped eyes,
fierce cheek bones, and thick, black, naturally curly hair.
She celebrates her curves, embraces the meat on her bones.
At peace with her body,
Big and Beautiful,
Thick and Fab
Loving every inch.
A forgotten treasure in a Me, Myself, and I era.
Where there’s no genuine concern for the sufferings of the unfortunate.
Only selfish pursuits of unsatisfying gains,
willfully turning a blind eye and a cold shoulder
numb to the groans from people’s pains.
It will require you to take your eyes of you to alleviate other’s distress,
but those seeds of grace once planted,
sets your inner soul at rest.
Continent to continent, country to country, culture to culture,
beauty defined, is as infinite as the stars in the sky,
the sand on the sea shore.
An array of characteristics to be celebrated: Dark-skinned, fair-skinned, elongated necks, skinny, curves, tattoos, big eyes, long black hair, long blond hair, short curly hair, long coiled hair, pointy nose, excessive jewelry, tribal scars….
And here in the West, what you didn’t get from nature can be achieved by knife through plastic surgery, implants, hair extensions,
all in efforts to attain: BEAUTY.
Every “beauty” should be celebrated!
Inner acceptance of your outer glory
is what catches the beholder’s eye…
Sophisticated, immeasurably educated
can shine in the board room
then escape to my prayer closet and get a prayer through.
Able to transcend the stereotypes but don’t push me…
Born in the south, da boot, the dirty dirty, Lousiana that is!
Got my finger-snapping, neck-rolling, and eye-batting game on lock.
I’m a devout believer in the laying on of hands,
getting it in old school, don’t need a glock.
On occasion have been ignorant to time and place
going Lawanda in a New York second
but I own it, it’s all me, not attributed to my race.
Tug-of-warring between sophistication and ratchet, Terrell Star coined it perfectly: Sophisti-Ratchet!
Yes I’m ratchet, he ratchet, she ratchet, we ALL got some ratchet in us.
Held against your will, unable to speak, seeming bound for life
but if you could only get close enough to the window to inscribe “Help”
It seems no one even notices, or do they?
Where is your sting? Who put out your fire?
Lately, a generic brand of the real you.
So much uncertainty, invisible to the naked eyes,
discernible only to those who dare to see beyond the adornments.
You wear them well but if only they too could speak.
Would they tell the story of “what was”
A message of hope from He who sees all, knows all, and can do the impossible:
Let Me In…..
Uniquely different, setting you apart from the multitudes.
Effortlessly executed, no outside stimulus needed
internal inspiration, naturally you,
enthused energy…pursue that!