Updated: Sep 29, 2018
This is for that boy, struggling to fit in into the mould of society – trying to make a name for yourself but every day you try to hold on to the fragments of your soul, breaking down the individual stares that seem to scold – your already scald heart. This is for the boy who by just walking down a silent street, an elderly man crosses over because he feels threatened by the colour which blossoms your skin. This is for the mother whose son left to play ball with the others only to become enthralled into the prison painted in crimson, becoming nothing more than another statistic logged into the database, of a fragmented showcase. Smitten. This is for the mothers who wake to the translucent neon blue and red flashing lights, which seem to dance so elegantly around her draped curtains, in her hand lies the crumbled picture of her eldest son, once clenched in her fist. His smile sinking into the palm of her hand. This is for the little boy who still sits at the bottom of the stairs waiting for his daddy to come back home, not knowing he has now been left alone. Blown away by a splintered thorn. Lest we forget, forgive, forbid mid the turbulence of your life so livid – you are a King! So vivid, you are a luminous flowing spring. Stand like a champion, walk like a stallion not afraid to sting. Start a revolution to arouse confusion, and become an inspiration to your growing generation. Today is the day of celebration! There is no need for preparation when you initiate your own creation. You King and sovereign, a desirable, valuable offering. You are that black boy who is not afraid to stand up and shout. Stand up and speak. Stand up and be heard. Stand up and be counted! You, black boy, your label is your crown, your name your sceptre. Your skin your throne! No longer standing alone, conquer and seize your home. Light up and enthrone your mark, release within the mist of the dark. The darkness which wishes to overpower you, devour you. The laws that leave you weak and vulnerable, the words which cause you to stumble. Fight like a warrior, do not let the night and moon pronounce you inferior, promote and produce hysteria. You are much more than you think! You are superior! Your skin is your trophy, carry it with honour. Take back what belongs to you, but do it slowly. So that the impact won’t come lightly! You King of the Nile, ride among the stars, ensnare your blessings, take back your kingdom, you know who you are. They can never control you, you are too strong. Warrior. Emperor. King. Oh, you, black diamond, priceless. Slay with your words, all those who question your value. Show your true potential, break down the obstacle which is their temple, you my King are able. For you are not just a black boy, you are a King.