Africa – My Africa

By March 12, 2015Uncategorized

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You have written your name across the span of my soul.

You have tattooed your brand across my heart.

You have held my future in the palm of my hand.

And still you love me.




With my child-bearing hips and my thunder thighs.

With my “disproportionate” proportion that won’t slip mild and meekly into most dress pants.

With my “strange by cute” accent

With my emotional roller coaster – the one most men avoid at “that time of the month” not knowing that it’s always there – month in, month out. Because it is the core of who I am. Emotional Lava flowing always.

I fought against being called Black – I fought against being identified as African – with Africans, I fought the good fight – or so I thought.

Until the core of me felt like it was dying. Molten lava flowed through my veins. Longing, yearning to belong again. I swam upstream thinking I was making progress, until I realized the current had already brought me home to you.

I am your African queen. Tall. Proud. Justified by my thick lips, my big hips and my appetite for hot, dusty Safari ‘Tingz’

I am now totally, completely addicted to you. The wailing of the wind, the taste of dust – cotton, red, or just. The mad traffic in the scorching sun. The rhythm that I cannot stand yet can’t seem to get out of my heart.

I find myself swaying my hips to the beat of you – Africa, my Africa.

I am a queen and just didn’t know it.

It is your right and you must take it by force – said the stranger in the elevator to the queen who attempted to bow out – tap out and give way. No he said, you first – now and always.

I am your African queen. I submit to the tone of the love in your voice. I submit to the pitch of the laughter in your eyes. I submit to the touch of your soul on my soul. I submit because you love me – thickly, blackly, and securely.

I once was lost then you grabbed me back. Like a jealous lover prone to stalk to the end, you, my Africa refuse to let me go. When I flee from emotion, you let me go through it but not without holding me through it

You, my Africa are my all. You see through the walls of deceit in botched bleached madness and love the freckles, the dimples and the jiggles of my unsettling thighs.

Today, I celebrate each one of you.

Your thick lips, child bearing hips, thunder thighs, figure whatever floats your African Boat.

Today I celebrate the Queen in you.

Malkia – Arise

Malkia – Unveiled

Malkia – Uncut

Malkia – IS You

You are Beautiful – Empowered – Visionary

You are @BeautifulPetal_



Author Bev

I am Beautiful - Empowered - Visionary

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