There Will Be a Day

There will be a day,
where I
Will only hear the fading
of my existence,
A day where my being
Will linger through
my poetry,
Where recognition
Is the ignition of my past,
And the past will be
The lone thing that will last,
My name will only
Be declared by
The pen
I used to embrace,
The paper
I used to stroke,
Love will forget me,
And those before
Who spoke in vain
Will now speak in
Pain
My goods
Will be buried
Beneath the soil,
Where I will meet
The unknown,
And the unknown
Will greet
And welcome me to a home
Assembled by the
Contingent of my moral,
There will be a day,
Sure will be the day
Where my existence will fade
But my words will endure
You will hear my name,
In the intone of scripts
Written by age,
The meaning is less
In my time of being,
But it shall increase
After my passing.
My end,
Shall be your
New beginning,
And that day,
You will remember
Me.
That day,
Will be the day
I am history!
You’ll flip through the text books,
Pages 1 2 and 3
And I will be in between
Black
Woman,
And Islamic Mystery
You will find my face
Grinning on those chapters,
And you will study my misery
My struggle, and pain
The blood I rained,
The life I have gained
You will learn that
my life was in fact
Always intact
With my roots,
And that my people,
Where the people,
That chanted, and hummed
In the land of poetry
Far in the East of
Africa,
Where my mother gave
Birth to a daughter
And named her,
Me.
There will be a day
You will read
Her story,
Your
history!