Fruit of my Fertility
BY KALAYAH JOHNSON.
As I lay here in the cradle of my thoughts.
Fingers dancing along the
Stripes that mar my thighs.
I think of the possibility that seeps
From my skin. The untapped potential
My anatomy has granted me.
Blessed by the Motherland, as its
Kiss burdens my hips, with the ability
To bring forth humanity
As the fruit of my fertility.
Seeds fall barren unless they touch
My rich melanin, bringing forth a myriad of colors.
Drops of sunlight dancing across the
Mist of rain.
Flowers.
Blossoms speckled across my bosom.
Fruit.
Of my fertility.
Only the Truth
BY KALAYAH JOHNSON.
One day.
The dew will no longer sit
On blades of green grass.
The clouds will no longer drift
Across the quilt God cradled the Earth with.
The sea will overtake the dry land,
And the sands of time will wash away--
Become an enigma to the universe.
Silence
will become the song every ear attunes to.
And none will remember the cacophony
Of Love.
Of Anger.
Of Fear.
Of Joy.
Only darkness impregnates
The empty space, a remnant of our lives.
And we, doomed to become extinguished--
The moment we ignite,
Are powerless to slow
The process of our expiration.
One day.
Every tear shall be found,
Dancing on the corpses of their meaning,
Freed from their reason for being.
Every ache and pain, a blooming flower
Surviving on their stubborn nature.
The only color lasting in the darkness alone.
Kalayah Johnson is a 16 year old African-American woman born and raised in New York. She loves mixed berry gelato, and wants to share her thoughts as far as she can, so that she can speak for those who don’t have a voice, and maybe just make someone somewhere feel a little bit more sunshine in their souls.