Joy

She is a tower of strength

Her beauty coveted and unparalleled

Clothed in robes of gold,

and warming and welcoming in ways

we wish wearily for.

They call her Joy.

We spend our lives searching for her

in empty homes

Seeking to fill heartless holes

we call it happiness

But Joy evades us

Joy is a Black woman

(all things full of creation are)

basking in the beauty of beautiful rainshowers

smiling and singing

about the sun that succumbs to the necessary downpour

Daring to wet her coiled, kinky, cocky locks

by the tsunami of cleansing

that begets around her.

Joy is pancakes after sleepless nights –

The knowing that sustenance from the sweet syrup

sticks to your soul

and invites sleep on slow Sunday mornings

As rest is refreshing whenever it agrees with us.

Joy is running

Running forever

Barefooted

Broken

Beautiful

Backed with the strength of our ancestors

who softly whisper “freedom”

as you run zig zag through fields of familiar and forgotten wildflowers.

Joy is

Hard

Hell overcome

Hope mainfested

But mostly,

Joy is

the crossroad of acceptance and liberation.

 

Author: Lee

Just a woman who laughs a little too loudly, making people constantly stare, states her mind always, sings offkey, embraces her afrocentricity, and drops the F-Bomb entirely too much. My hobbies include honing my highly sensitive person skills, trying to find that poor, rare man that can love all of this and I, him, overthinking, fighting for injustices, and listening to old school R&B and neosoul while drinking wine and cooking in my kitchen. I love the other two bloggers here with all my heart and happy to be doing this blog with them!

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