BlackMonth

Rocking my body to Tupac with a side of Maya

Traveling through the underground trail to bring us into mainstream life

Swaying to Luther Van-D never too much to talk about at the black board

A journey into time examining Harriet’s toes bloody and bare

I sway to the beat box of African faces singing songs of the revolution

A Brush with death hung on a tree to rubber necks shocked into silence.

I dance it out with Common and the lyrics of a generation paying tribute.

A March that ebbs and flows but is never done in the backdrop of breathe to air.

Drumming it out adding a bit of salsa to the djembe that the middle passage made music.

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