BLACK HISTORY

It’s more than color, baby.

It’s more than bone.

And anywhere you drop it,

Is just another home.

And any name you call us,

We turn it into blues.

We share the song of genius,

And soon, you’re singing too.

It’s more than blood, baby.

It’s more than flesh.

It’s every inspiration

That hasn’t happened yet.

And anywhere you plant it,

It’s bound to foster fruit.

And all across this planet,

You see the modern proof…

Because we’re more than color,

More than the flesh,

Or bloody bone.

And to say it’s only

Physical…

That’s wrong.

You don’t have to be descended from a Pharaoh.

You don’t have to trace your family back to Kings.

The spirit of the people runs through us all like a vein,

And though my genetics are hectic, I am still one and the same…

It is in you. It is with you.

The song your history sings.

I am Black History.

And that is more than a legacy of pain.

We are more than the span of our shades.

 

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