A poem #4

 By Cam Noir

My favorite color is black. And no it is not because I am goth. But I do love gothic art and music.

Black is the absence of light. The lack of white. It is missing the lift, the release.

I don’t think black is a lack. If anything it contains it all. It is absorbing.

My favorite color is black, because it is filling. A satiable, indescribable feeling is black.

Black isn’t a lack-but instead a space. A place, an existence where history and silence meet.

It holds the ancestral shed of my blood. Of rhythms deep, and a hearts beat.

Black is my love of gothic art, music, and style. It is my cloak of quiet sorrow.

Black is the hollow that I carry of generational curses.

The aching lies of history that continue to hurt her-story. A black womans tale.

Yet, I can see it. Within the lies is freedom. A satiable, indescribable, feeling.

I refuse to fear the void. But I bear some fear of freedom.

For the freedom I seek is far beyond, any place we can actually reach.

A freedom so new it’s scary. A place that is practically imaginary.

To hold the weight, to be my own. To breathe in black and finally see.

My favorite color is black, because it’s all and nothing. It is a place for both the shadows and the light that I’ve yet to find.

It is the optimism in me. As I ground myself, stealth as a tree. Planting the seed that I want to see, one day, and it become herstory.

Peace,

Cam