A chronology of ancestral
melanin women who endured intolerable hardship, disrespect, and cycles of abuse
for centuries and their descendant's courageous fight to reclaim their time and
the spoils pilfered from their battles! Nubian queens clawed themselves from
beneath generational layers of misogynistic and racist soil destined to bury
them alive. Refusing to be overlooked or denied, they tended to their emotional
and physical battle scars by massaging sweet shea cocoa butter and Vaseline
into their wounds while remaining unapologetically unchanged and relentless at
the same time. They have fought relentlessly to realize their hopes, goals, and
dreams for future generations.
Carolyn June-Jackson, an award-winning poet, remembers the oppressed systemic racism of the late 1950s and the volatile civil rights movement during the early 1960s while growing up in Arlington, Virginia. These early memories influenced her expressions of racism and segregation through a black prism in her poetry. As a result, though she began writing in the 1980s, she didn't take her writing seriously until the 2000s. Carolyn published her first poetry book, “My Poetic Threads Create a Tapestry,” in January 2021. On its launch, Amazon awarded it #1 Hottest New Best Seller, #1 Black and African-American Poetry, and #2 United States Literary Criticism. Her poetry recognizes the African Diaspora, its history, relationships, struggles with racism, and social and political issues that impact the everyday lives of African-Americans. One of the highlights of her writing was penning a tribute to Congressman John Lewis's Life and legacy at his passing. The late Congressman's family returned a heartfelt acknowledgment and a photo collage.
I sat so merry in my abode
Loving hands around me
I dreamt of such glorious days
One day i would see
I remember the day I left
My room
I closed the door behind me
One quick look again
Then walked away
The room which would always remind me
The glorious days I had dreamt
I did merrily spent
How little did I then know
Life turns on a dime
My room is now not as it was
When I closed the door
Behind me
My room now is a prison
But not how one would invision
It is one of sorrow and grief
Sadness burns into the bare walls
I catch my breath
And weep
Why did thou'st doth betray?
The room which once embraced me
I ask with riddled heart
Jagged and torn
Which wicked riddles have I thus sought?
I sit still
I am now my room
No dreams as once before
I age before my open door
In my room long ago
I sat merrily in my loving abode
Loving hands did hold me
All gone
My room and myself
Now one
Two thrust to be together
Forever
Alone