dear anonymous black woman

I’m writing this letter to you on a Monday because of partly cloudy skies partly because I know why the caged bird cries and why the hummingbird flies

I’m writing this letter to you Anonymous Black Woman

Because I remember your maiden name
Because I bathe in your reflection
And I hear your song tap dance on the airwaves

When I see your face in a movie scene
It has the word slave scribbled across the screen

I’m writing this letter to you because I hear you scream
You are suffocating my Africa

When you read between these lines I hope love is what you find
I reach for you but your end has no beginning
Your mane is now blonde and stringy
Your complexion blended to peer perfection
Your beauty bargained with Photoshop tricks
My lips and hips still thick built like a brick
My crown and glory contained in corn rolls, braids or Afro
Sometimes curly and sometimes kinky

Some say nappy

I’m writing this letter to you because you don’t look happy

Seems like the rules of engagement have changed
You married a system and he martyred you a victim
Your taskmaster traded chains for fame
Frame by frame and page to stage
Your identity is starting to fade
Sooner or later you anonymous black women all look the same

I’m writing this letter to you
So at least you can remember my pen name
You used to call me soul sister

The one that looks like you in a forgotten picture