A Poem For Black Men
by Keya Medley
(a little something to let the brothers know that there’s still mad love for them.)
He’s in my dreams not always specific
The one and only one I want, I feel, I long for.
His hands,
Strong hands, black hands,
uplifting hands to touch me,
hold me, caress me, love me.
Vivid, like the moment never ending
always there.
For me, for me only,
loving, caring, wanting.
He brings revolution to his people,
love to his woman,
security to his children
and peace to himself.
He is a worker, a fighter, a teacher, a lover,
with gifts to offer this world this nation.
Gifts more precious than gold or jewels.
Gifts made to last until this Earth
wobbles over on it’s last leg.
They are precious offerings
of a real, true, BLACK MAN.
A man who knows what he stands for,
knows what he wants,
and knows how to get everything he desires.
He is rare and precious.
One in a million,
hard to come by.
This strong, loving, Black man.
I have found him,
I have watched him, constantly.
In my dreams.
( she wrote this a few years ago, and can say that she has found some to fit this description)
Via Warrior’s of Black Consciousness”
Forever Black Effusion 