akua

part three of the seven part series KAMERON

you loved yourself loud already,
that’s the flex,
that’s the proof,
and that’s exactly why i love you reckless, unafraid,
uncouth.

you taught me how to love my blackness without asking permission,
skin like midnight hymns,
locs hanging with a holy intention.
blackness in the air when you walk
incense and drumlines,
ancestors humming through your laugh, keeping me on time.

you blew me away—
earth tones doing ballet
in my vision,
yellow like sunrise healing parts of me i didn’t mention.
if i’m smiling, you laughing,
we thuggin’,
living in joy,
turning survival into rhythm,
pain into poise.

you feel like clay and sun, like home after rain,
like God took His time on you and signed His name.
you my queen ‘cause we was all kings before crowns got stolen,
before history tried to split us, fold us,
label us broken.

you helped me see my shade as sacred,
not something to outrun,
not too dark, just deep
like the work ain’t done.
love made me conscious,
not cautious, that’s the shift.
found the kite string in the wind,
that’s the lift.

your beauty and blackness knock the breath from my chest,
harmony in your melanin, every note blessed.
i’m in love with you, with my blackness, with this life,
with the way we turn struggle into husbandry and light.

i’m just glad flo b gon’ be black as you and me,
brown sugar futures dancing in her destiny.
and if they take me out like fred—
history cruel and abrupt—
just know you my akua,
my agape, my north star, my love.

yeah…
call the brothers radiant,
call the sisters divine,
same soil, different shades,
every hue aligned.
if you like it, i love it
so let the record ring true:
i found myself in the mirror, then i found God in you.

… with love, with all my love.

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by iika hartmann 2004