Poems That I Live By

Can't Silence Me - Cassidy Conley 

Lips zipped as I suppress my feelings
To the pit of my stomach. I can’t speak.
I attempt to speak my truth, but my tone of voice rises
Disguising my real pain. All hidden behind a beautiful smile.

I don’t cook. Does that make me any less of a woman?
Unable to fulfill the duties that are expected of me.
Not allowed to sit at the head of the same table that I set.
Women are to be seen, not heard, I was told.

Is my body an ornament to you?
A piece of property or art that can be claimed as your own,
Not as your equal.
I am amazingly woman.

Today I decide, no longer will I chew my words
And swallow them so my presence will be easier.
Now speaking, my voice can’t be silenced again.
Every word uttering from my tongue will be music to the ears of the silenced woman.

Taking every moment to speak against the bigotry
That this nation has adopted,
Making the loud and proud woman an enemy.
I refuse to shy away from conflict, because conflict is a necessary evil.

After years of silence, I speak, and suddenly I become a radical?
Well, call me a radical!
Watch me radically change this nation with my girls,
One step at a time.

This was the most transformative piece I've written for myself. I had the honor of reading it in front of millions at The Squad forum at Cass Tech in Detroit. I never feel comfortable presenting other people's poetry because it's not my story to tell. So, when I get to perform, I pull out my notepad and pour out my feelings. This piece reflects my journey to becoming the proud leader I am today. There was a time when I didn’t speak up at all, but poetry and incredible people pushed me through it, giving me the loudest, most educated, and opinionated voice I can have in this moment of my lifetime. It will only continue to grow! Comment below who influenced the positive change in your life. 

And Still I Rise - Maya Angelou 

You may write me down in history

With your bitter, twisted lies,

You may trod me in the very dirt

But still, like dust, I'll rise.

Does my sassiness upset you?

Why are you beset with gloom?

’Cause I walk like I've got oil wells

Pumping in my living room.

Just like moons and like suns,

With the certainty of tides,

Just like hopes springing high,

Still I'll rise.

Did you want to see me broken?

Bowed head and lowered eyes?

Shoulders falling down like teardrops,

Weakened by my soulful cries?

Does my haughtiness offend you?

Don't you take it awful hard

’Cause I laugh like I've got gold mines

Diggin’ in my own backyard.

You may shoot me with your words,

You may cut me with your eyes,

You may kill me with your hatefulness,

But still, like air, I’ll rise.

Does my sexiness upset you?

Does it come as a surprise

That I dance like I've got diamonds

At the meeting of my thighs?

Out of the huts of history’s shame

I rise

Up from a past that’s rooted in pain

I rise

I'm a black ocean, leaping and wide,

Welling and swelling I bear in the tide.

Leaving behind nights of terror and fear

I rise

Into a daybreak that’s wondrously clear

I rise

Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave,

I am the dream and the hope of the slave.

I rise

I rise

I rise.

I don't care how often this poem is quoted; it remains my favorite piece. There's something about it that fills me with an immense sense of power. When I hear Maya Angelou recite these words, I feel a surge of empowerment that makes me subconsciously stand taller. It's as if her words infuse me with strength and confidence, lifting me up both emotionally and physically. This poem isn't just a collection of verses—it's a source of inspiration and resilience that resonates deeply with me every single time. "I rise. I rise. I rise." It literally send shivers down my spine. 

Black Girl Trauma - Ashley Anne

Another Black body lay still on my heavy heart
positioned in the graveyard neatly designed in my mind
A reluctant new member of an undesirable club
free from the knee planted firmly on his neck

The world watched the light fade in his tired eyes
falling victim to a system that was never designed to protect him
Our cries and calls for justice have largely been dismissed
so, I have to ask, “why him and why now?”

America doesn’t care about Black and brown bodies, unless
they’re dribbling a ball or rushing towards the end zone
Why do I need to be extraordinary
to ensure my safe return home?

Our pain and trauma are much like an officer’s conviction
much discussed and rarely seen
It is both a blessing and a curse to have this tape
as it disputes the testimony of sociopathic monsters

But it haunts us in our sleep, down the street, around the corner
and back again
You could be next, young king or queen
and everybody knows it

I am a proud Black woman with my kinky hair and big brown eyes
My body shimmers and glows when kissed by the sun
My skin is coated in delicious melanin
The strength of my ancestors ever present in my blood

But there are times where my body feels like a cage
and I don’t have the choice of leaving
Can’t relate to the lily White suburban girls rhyming to rap lyrics,
playing a part and mimicking that Black girl magic

Cultural appropriation coated in White privilege
romanticizing Blackness sans dealing with Black issues
Fetishizing mixed-race babies and swearing that they’re down
but are nowhere to be found when the tear gas hits

I was born Black and I will die Black
The struggle in between is a never-ending fight

If it isn’t the presumption of ignorance and poverty, it’s housing discrimination
If it isn’t being interrupted in meetings, it’s Karen trying to touch my hair again
If it isn’t being overly sexualized, it’s earning roughly 50 cents to every White man’s dollar
If this all sounds exhausting to you, just know I’ve barely scratched the surface

I omitted the part where Black women are expected to be calm to avoid being that angry Black
I didn’t mention the pressure to adhere to European beauty standards in the hopes of making it in
corporate America
And there was no mention of having to address the negatives, changing the narratives
before she can even bury her baby’s body

So, you see, there is trauma in the Black experience
A 400-year-old system that has yet to be broken
Kneel like Kaepernick or boil over into rage
The Oppressor will never be satisfied either way