Cousin thinks maybe they are hunting us for the melanin in our skins
The only thing the sun doesn’t burn
So they shoot our brothers in the streets
And tell our sisters not to think
Themselves pretty
Or worthy of being
Anything other than sassy
Or objects in magazines
Cousin asks me how we’re going to make it
i say:
They hosed grandpa and his whoadies down the block,
Still couldn’t rinse it out
Turned grandma into a wet nurse who was never home to feed her own,
Still couldn’t suckle it out
Trapped our daddies in prisons of systems,
Still couldn’t tame it down
Our moms had to give up on their wishes just to keep us alive
With nine to fives, and five to nines,
Still couldn’t work it out of their fingers and bones
Instead our blood found love, don’t you know?
Ways of living
Though the world calls us to fear the Earth she won’t let us be afraid
Even you,
The sun knows to respect you,
Wild like a jaguar, black like a panther
Thick in lips, hips, strands and skin
Sweet in chocolate, caramel or honey
Kind in heart, overflowing in hope
A power that colours everything
Remain unafraid of fire and all its flavours
You’re covered by the one
Substance respected by the sun

Sinenhlanhla Porlet Zungu