Am I That Strange Fruit?...

Am I that Strange Fruit?...

I sit in utter silence as I think about my ancestors, and what they experienced. Going back to roots, the strange fruit even expressed by Billie Holiday “Southern trees bear strange fruit. Blood on the leaves and blood at the roots. Black bodies swinging’ in the Southern breeze. Strange fruit, fruit hanging from popular trees.” I think to be, what if that was me?... Black Lives Matter painted on the street we know we have to speak. BOOM! The silence breaks. Break every chain, the sun comes out it stops the rain. You reap not what you sow for when do we get to breathe could, would be the death of me. That same negro in these streets you killed wit yo knee but excuse me me as I plead and I plead for you to stop killing me. No but leading me to bleed unfortunately calling my momma’s name wasn’t clear to be that I needed to breathe? I still want to be free of that bondage that holds me, to believe I am still not free. Can’t even sit comfortably in a classroom and to someone that is supposed to teach me the knowledge that I need to get that degree. For my momma to be proud of me. So that brings me back to think, I am I one of those Strange Fruit in those trees?..., cause that’s what you treat me to be. Matter a fact this ain’t no slavery! I am a Black Queen God made me to be! Yah feel me!?