Speak not of me as Negro, bound to shame,
For I am black, a man of pride, my name.
Birthed from the soil where sun and earth entwine,
I am the ebon heir of ancient line.
Deny me not the majesty I claim,
For every scar bears proof of sacred flame.
Beneath the silk of stars, my story weaves,
A tapestry where roots and dreams believe.
My spirit’s forged in furnaces of time,
Each trial a stone, each fall a step to climb.
Lo, I am granite, molded firm and deep,
Through storms I rise, and still my essence keeps.
In pre-colonial hues, my wisdom streams,
From griots’ tongues to nights of whispered dreams.
The baobab grows not in a day, they say,
Yet firm it stands, though winds might bid it sway.
So too am I, steadfast in my resolve,
Through fire and flood, my truths will not dissolve.
Yet let us speak of post-colonial chains,
The shadows wrought by foreign, bitter reigns.
A man adorned in chains may still be free,
If mind and soul retain their sovereignty.
Do not confuse the yoke with broken will,
For though oppressed, my heart beats noble still.
The river knows its course, my elders told,
And I, a stream, now crest in waters bold.
Through cotton fields to Harlem’s mighty rise,
Through ghettos’ tears to voices in the skies.
Each whispered song, each prayer, each righteous shout,
A testament: the Black will not burn out.
Oh, wretched world, that seeks to paint me small,
Yet from my roots, empires stand tall.
Kings once walked where now my feet do tread,
Their crowns of gold now memories unsaid.
But I am here, their echo, their reply,
A living flame no darkness can deny.
Call me not Negro, nor slave, nor a thing,
For I am black, and in my veins do sing
The songs of Nubia, of Timbuktu’s halls,
Of pyramids that shame earth’s greatest walls.
I am the lion, whose roar shakes the land,
I am the phoenix, rising by my hand.
Oh, sons and daughters of this troubled age,
Hear now my cry, and turn to wisdom’s page:
Beauty is black, and blackness beauty’s throne,
A splendor vast, a glory all its own.
For in my shade lies freedom, strong and true,
I am a black man, and beautiful too.
The Ebony Crown: A Testament of Beauty and Power
Written by Jide Adesina
Don’t Call me a Negro “ I am black and beautiful”
Extract from Tale of Destiny
December, 2024
(c) All rights reserved
Video from instagram. Voiceoftheancestors
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