Sanctuárium

There are Gods amongst us in these ghettos so black, so fierce, so brown, so beautiful, Their time on earth may be as oppressive as ignorance limited to the demons flowing in their blood but after safely passing over back to the clouds the wind will still carry their auras and prophecies their bones will still beat drums for their children to dance the phoenix will still rise from the flames of Paris with hope in womb There are Gods amongst us in these ghettos so brown, so fierce, so black, so beautiful, That if you spend too much time caught up in yourself You just might miss Him that is goddess, she that is god, they that are legends Working the runway as if walking on water Reaching the stage to that promised land where ‘peace’ is not ridiculed and the only war worth fighting for is protecting your child from the terrorist acts of a mainstream America where 'reading’ is an act of learning not degrading words used to disguise fragility and fractured dreams where 'shade’ is a shadow you walk in to avoid the light but who wants to stay out of the warmth of the sun? If you waste your time trying to be a false prophet robed in attitude and labels to obscure the insecurity you may fail to recognize their divinity and miracles parting the crowds, resurrecting from the floor, scoring tens of commandments, because trophies will not feed the hungry, coat the homeless, hide the scars, Grand Prizes will not bring Lazarus or LaBeija back from the dead they will just sit in your closet, fake idols gathering dust,

before the gold paint chips away You cannot sell them for freedom You cannot trade them in for love There are Gods amongst us in these ghettos so black, so fierce, so black, so beautiful, so brown, so fierce, so brown, so beautiful, Watch them carefully and say your prayers as they enter the ballroom angel wing feathers decorating skin recrafted over silicone and martyred colors See the Gods dream, see the Gods give, see the Gods live, They exist in the spaces where white is not the only hue that represents purity They will not battle to your rhythms and beats click, spin and dip simply for amusement They will not teach those who share their souls and names to hate Their heartbeats are louder than the blaring speakers You want realness… look at your hands are they red from the revolution or from the blood of your own sisters There are Gods amongst us in these ghettos so black, so brown, so fierce, so beautiful, so bright Look up towards the heavens and pray then look at yourself in the mirror and say 'Stars are not only found out in the sky but in ourselves’ Emanuel Xavier

Byron Katie

(via

naturaekos

)

Grace