Poem on Black literature
By Naomi Ekele
The beauty of a life, well-formed
With substance real
Finer than dust and
Eternal!
A breath undying
Filled with the broken love of
A lifetime:
I give you my voice,
Behold, I come in bits and
Refined pieces,
That ethereal touch
Is drooling with my
ebony - I am the one
Whom you once called lost.
Listen,
What voice?
The telling of tales:
Secrets of an ancestry.
No grimace.
By Naomi Ekele
The beauty of a life, well-formed
With substance real
Finer than dust and
Eternal!
A breath undying
Filled with the broken love of
A lifetime:
I give you my voice,
Behold, I come in bits and
Refined pieces,
That ethereal touch
Is drooling with my
ebony - I am the one
Whom you once called lost.
Listen,
What voice?
The telling of tales:
Secrets of an ancestry.
No grimace.
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