Black people, those of African descent, in america embody a magic seen and admired  worldwide. We are the "miracle", as I was told. I am apt to believe that. When looking at this from our beginning. Uprooted and stolen from home. Tortured, enslaved and left to die in the hulls of ships. If we were blessed enough to survive the sounds of oceans crashing on the other side of our existence, we were "afforded" the opportunity to work sun up and sun down. At no cost. Under fear. While our families were torn apart or raped before our eyes. Maybe hung until our weight made Poplar tree branches moan.

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This piece is about the magic we embodied while surviving all of that and the many atrocities that continue to follow years after.

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That magic holding us together as if we were celestial beings collapsing upon each other during mass transfer. That had us shine in the darkest moments and protected us. 

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This is piece is about that. The many tones of us where magic is embedded in our melanin drenched skin.

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