I am my ancestors’ wildest dream.
I’m the writer for those who couldn’t read,
The voice for those who couldn’t speak,
I dance for justice and fight for peace,
I am free.
But only due to their bravery.
The men and women who went before,
And paved a road of liberty.
Laced with sacrifice, and suffering.
Families tattered and torn by a system of oppression,
Brutal beatings armed with lynchings filled with aggression,
False lessons.
To prove they were lesser than their oppressors.
But we fought back you see.
And lifted arms under its weight until the system was dismantled.
We used our Hope and Faith as weapons.
And sliced through the enemies camp of fear,
Set out to keep us under.
Instead we went down under,
Ground.
And met Fear face to face.
We looked him dead in his eyes
And found, he was really the one afraid.
I am my ancestors’ wildest dream.
I dance the dance that David did,
With feet of a King.
And lift my head up high like Esther.
Exuding the exquisite stature of a queen.
I march and shout like Martin and Harriett, Malcom and Sojourner, Frederick and them.
Their blood races through my veins at a considerable rate,
To fight in the war I was born to face.
The eyes of our hearts now having been open,
It was never about our skin but our purpose!
It was never about our race but our image!
And Who’s we were created in.
They passed the torch to us to win!
We run not for ourselves but like they did,
For our next of kin!
For houses built and businesses owned.
For laws that protect and injustices atoned.
We are our ancestors’ wildest dream,
And they now find their rest, their joy, their love in the manifestation, of such a miraculous thing.
