It’s a brown liquor and blues kind of day. A day after which, like an exhausted toddler, I will collapse in a heap on the floor. Tantrumed out. Bereft of tears. BOF.
Being a Black Girl Who Rocks is my superpower, but my cape hangs limp today. Precious Lord, I am tired. I am weak. I am worn. I am a dream deferred to the point of explosion, sagging under a heaviness centuries old. Who knew there were so many ways to be lynched?
Tomorrow I can be hopeful again. Tomorrow I will see through Grace-filled eyes. Tomorrow my laughter will fill the room rather than stifling in my throat…
But tonight, there will be tears, and anguished albeit silent screams. Tonight there will be desperate hugs, lingering caresses, hands that hold a little longer. Tomorrow, it’ll be alright, but today? Tonight?
It’s a brown liquor and blues kind of day.
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Chelle A Wilson 