The Black Man's Anchor

by HH

A tree is anchored to the ground by roots which draw nourishment from the depths of the Earth. Typhoon winds will not topple the tree. Torrential rains will not wash it away. Even freezing snow will not crack it. And the smallest leaf on the furthest branch at the outermost limb grows secure from the nourishment these unseen roots bring.

When the Black Man was in his cradle on the evening before the dawn of his awakening, Mother Africa was talking to him. At the twilight of civilization's beginning, She was holding class on the banks of the Nile. She created roots then that connect to you now like umbilical cords carrying nurturing reminders of History and Culture, as if from the deepest depths of a mother's womb to her child.

You may not have known this source of strength existed or that you've been connected to it all this time. But the blood that flows in your veins today built the Pyramids centuries ago. The genes that make you who you are created writing and education when the rest of the world was bathed in ignorance. And the voices that whisper are but the black ancestors anchored within you echoing, even as you sleep, to build the next great tomorrows like they built the last magnificent yesterdays.

Roots by HH

© Copyright 2003. All rights reserved. No portion of this work may be duplicated or copied without the expressed written consent of the author.

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