Poetry

Poetry: The Soul is the Self..

That girl looks in the mirror, closes her eyes, and begins to think…

That the Soul is the Self…and the Self is the Soul.

So who that girl be?

Like girl…see these broken wings, 

They were meant to fly.

That Black girl always been so shy,

Yet that girl can be so fly.

But that girl always be compromising

For eyes other than her own.

If the Soul is the Self and the Self is the Soul,

And soul is the depth of everything,

Is she her thoughts? 

Certainly not like Ms. Badu.

And as she searches for food for thought 

To be the engine to her comprehension like De La Soul.

Badu’s melody enters her brain chemistry

And it sounds like peace and blessings manifest with every lesson learned.

And every lesson learned.

Is she what she learns? 

Question to the most high:

When is the end to all oppression? 

Often reflecting on her history 

And her soulful ancestors who were mourned once wondering the same thing,

such as Malcolm and Maya,

And Baldwin and Nina Simone,

These beautiful souls filled with

Optimism, self expression, depression, love, and soul, 

Cause the Soul is the Self and the Self is the Soul.

But…

See at times that Black girl she be lost.

She be lost in them trace of thoughts

Wondering why God be givin her visions of a life worth livin…

When all that girl seems to know is misery. 

Kinda like that girl got some kind of chemistry with all things undesirable in her brain.

A brain compromised by a system promising a fix with side affects.

Never thought that shit like this actually existed.

Perspectives became twisted, 

Imagining how her grandfather’s had when he was drafted into the Vietnam war 

Realizing at the age of 18 that he was getting ready to fight a white man’s war

But she just like he… 

Been refusing to let them take her mind away, day by day.  

For her dreams and visions be keeping her going.

For the Soul is the Self and the Self is the Soul.

So deep down every vision and dream must be a part of who she is supposed to be.

So see she looks in the mirror and says “Girl, them broken wings were meant to fly”

But that Black girl always been so shy.

And that girl always wondering why.

Why, if they say her eyes and soul is so beautiful,

She facing the unusual everyday?

Seems to have often opened her legs trying to fill a void 

Cause that girl be wanting the kissing and caressing to be apart in ending all of the confusion and disillusions of beauty and Self.

She just be praying that younger Black women like herself would start to realize that compromising and disguising ain’t no form of self-help.

Like even tho ain’t nothing wrong with a little love and affection, 

Life is merely all about perception.

Would prefer mind sex

Like an 

Intellectual connection

Mind over matter 

A verbal walk

But in the past seems to have often opened her legs to a nigga that she could never open her sense of mentality to.

Could never share dreams or aspirations.

Just ass and the aftermath like Dr. Dre.

And although she’s heard the saying “Life’s like an equation and she’s too tired to attempt to solve that shit”

But in a glimpse she thinks to herself that 

the Soul is the Self and the Self is the Soul 

And surely baby girl your self-worth can’t be measured.

So treasure that gold you possess between your thighs and in your mind…and simply in time

Unwind and love thyself unconditionally.

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