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Angela Joy riffs on the word “Black...“
“Black is molasses from tall sugarcane.Black is soft-singing,‘Hush now, don't explain.'”
...as a color...
“Black is a crayon, tangled in a box.Black is a feather on white winter snow.Black is the dirt where sunflowers grow.My color is black.”
...as a culture...
“Black is the heart of a candle and flame.Black is the power of movement in pain.”
...now...
“Black are the braids in my best friend's hair.Black are the bottoms of summertime feet.”
...in the past...
“Black is the color of ink staining page.Black is the mask that shelters his rage.”
...in the future...
“Black are the branches that carry my name:weaving, wrapping, lifting,laughing, hoping, graphing, quiet,strong.”
...with all the beautiful and hopeful promises of that word.
Black is a rainbow color.