[WE BORN ON A STRETCH MARK]

[WE BORN ON A STRETCH MARK]
THE MUSIC FOR THIS PIECE... MAKE SURE THAT YOU LISTEN AS YOU READ...
http://youtu.be/2GNzEeuVaN0


You told me you hated your stretch marks and I reeled... Picture me falling crumpled at the end of a swoon.
I placed my hand on your belly and begged you to never feel shame at your natural tattoos so lovingly etched into your skin by beneficent Allah.
I took my finger and traced a line as I told you of Nut and of Nefertiti and our relation to Hebrew Israelite... Another line of the Zulu as they fought the tyranny of powdered wig wearing racists with terroristic intentions...
I talked of Toussant, how he drove the French out of Haiti and formed the first and only African navy.
How he died locked away by a cruel dictator...
The white man still hates them for that, makes them pay by denying them aid... Denies them asylum in the of land of false democracy.
Funny how the root of that word rhymes with demon.
I put my lips to your navel and spoke to your womb of your amazing ability to grow large with child as your skin glows like the most luminescent and lovely moon in a winter sky.
Your stretch marks are the map to you and I... Born in a forge where angels stood in attendance.
I cursed those who made something so natural into an ugly thing... I took my tongue and licked the chocolate of your skin and felt your sigh...
A taste of the essence of all humanity.
That black line down the middle the division of our hemisphere in this day and time.
So many Warriors, queens, dreamers and prophets defined by the lines of your stretch marks.
So many lives that owe their existence to their formation...
Your stretch marks are the promise of new life and the reminder of who we are...
Wear them oh empress with pride and grace