• Karimah Colden

Rise!




There's no way you would ever have known how I thought long and hard about this moment and what I'd write. Although it seemed pretty natural when what eventually came to mind was the black man's plight.

I considered the daily walks on streets that echo with my predecessors shouts for justice, and saturated from the crimson blood my brothers bled.

How did the proud stride of one who knew his rightful place become altered to that of one so broken that all is forgotten, even his sovereign name. My eyes mirror your haunted memories of the past, tormented by the unseen lacerations branded on your soul, all because your kingly roar they needed to tame

But I stepped back, took off my shoes, faced a shattered mirror and looked deeper in self, because neither my sisters nor I have felt reprieve from this treachery and hell.



The bruises and many branded scars from the shackles, whips and chains seemed to have taken a life of their own as their ghostly presence haunts the remnants of our physical remains.

A once refined crown that wordlessly signified my unshakable rank and highly held regard was now more than a tad bit dull, missing jewels and with the appearance of one who’s been through war.

We've gone from rulers, to being ruled, to systematic division and ultimately self-inflicted oppression Our men emasculated, our women overly appropriated and objectified and our children’s vulnerable minds tainted with methodically kept lies and indecision.

The world is taught that the racism we see is forged from our inability to dismiss the past, and once forgotten, these fabrications can no longer be maintained. But would it be so easy if it were their blood force fed to this land, or their great-great-great shackled by iron restraints.

Now, please realize, there are those that want us infuriated because that’s when we’ve been known to lose control; Rage is necessary on our part for their militant plot to justifiably and legally unfold.

I am honored to say those with melanated skin in various shades of mine have produced some of the freest thinkers and greatest minds. So I have no doubt that we can rebuke this formulated oppression and evade all strategies and schemes on our lives.

But we must first bury the defamation that was left to fester like tainted food and take back the misconstrued and hidden truths.

There is this famous, though controversial, story of a Son whose presence roared like a shout among the people of a long gone Exodus; A people whose faith once lied in the One who sat on high, but their pride brought them down to a place of self-righteousness that wasn’t theirs to profess.

The Son was persecuted, blasphemed, betrayed and forsaken by His own; body torn, broken and battered only for Him to defeat death, save the betrayer and reclaim His throne.

My sisters...my brothers rise up and reclaim your throne! Let the blood of our dejected, dispirited and bruised ancestors assure you of the sacrifices they made in hopes that we remain strong, and the blood of the One who saved us remind you that you ARE whole!

Ms PHOENIX'S INFERNO

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