It seems so hard to climb.
To stop would be to quit.
To keep moving shows my fight.
Fighting with each step and each reach.
Though I slip, I’ll hold on.
Though I fail, I press on.
The journey seems so long.
But I have made it so far.
I can’t go back.
I just can’t.
Blissfully,
Bianca
To not know freedom is real.
Imagine the jar lid opening but never knowing freedom.
The chains are broken but how to be free: that is the question
Well, we thank God each day for another day
Though violence, genocide, lynching, Jim Crow, and segregation, we resist and we rise.
Though the powerful seek to erase us and our history, we persist.
We fight and we try…and try.
We lift our heads to the sky though society says we belong in the ground
Though Juneteenth was monumental then we still encounter modern forms of oppression
High incarceration rates, racial discrimination, voter suppression, hate crimes, black maternal mortality rates, disparities in society…it never stops.
We still resist the stigma, we still want to be free.
We still fight for injustice and we still are fighting for our lives to matter.
But just as our ancestors, we lift our heads to the sky and we try.
And we try.
Blissfully,
Bianca
Dirt so dry, dark, and dirty
Dirt so muddy and opaque from the harsh storms
And yet roots start to form
Storms provide the struggle but the lessons from rain come to the roots
Then the roots extend and extend till it is stronger
The deeper the roots, the firmer the plant stands.
Storms do not go away, they will always come
But roots, draw from its water and continue to grow and expand
Blissfully,
Bianca
Blissfully Bianca 