You say
I'm proud of my kinks ?
Kinks don't even
sound right.
Tight,
black,
curly.
Needin' grease.
I'm proud of these kinks ?
You say,
I'm glad I have dreads ?
Then why then
do they call them dreads ?
Long,
heavy,
strong.
Wantin' water.
I'm glad I have dreads ?
You say,
I'm blessed I have braids ?
Are they never ending, determined.
Resistant,
creative,
impregnable.
With some beads.
I'm blessed I have braids ?
35
You say,
it's thrilling to have naps ?
Fingers cannot run through.
Taut,
firm,
hardy.
Keeping heat from the head.
I'm thrilled to have naps ?
You say,
now, I'm nothing,
if that's true .
But, if my crown reflects
who I am.
I'm rugged,
and strong,
black,
curly,
long.
Heavy,
resistant,
creative,
taut.
Impregnable,
and firm.
This hardy head of mine,
is my crown.
Is my crown.
Is my crown of glory,
here,
since the beginning of time.
Terri wrote this poem as a tribute to her childhood days, when she spent her Saturday mornings sitting in the beauty shop. She lovingly remembers the smell of burning hair.
The true story of Cheryl Pierson Cuccio who made headlines in 1986 and her husband Rob Cuccio. Cheryl was abused sexually and physically and Rob died for 43 minutes on Cheryl's 43rd birthday.
This is not a drill. The attack on Pearl. They were the ghost planes of the night, deadly, illusive, sharp-clawed Black Cats. The Memoirs of ARM H.P. Lawrence, a Pearl Harbor survivor, Black Cat, and decorated war veteran.
For a time, I perched myself on a flat rock, comparing my life with the Guyandotte River. Just as its tributaries replenish it daily, changing it in some small—sometimes great—degree, so have the day-to-day occurrences of life changed me. Like the ri
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blessin's
cynth'ya lewis reed
Afrika