My remedy does not come in the form of a pill or white powder that messes with my brain. It does not come in the form of smoke or endless cuts found on my wrists.

My remedy comes in the form of a song. A melody that plays over and over in my head. A harmony that soothes every inch of my aching body.

My remedy is a variation of beats that either allow me to express my emotions or support me when i want to crawl into my little hole. A sound that just doesn’t move my body but my soul too.

My remedy is my music. A beautiful voice that keeps my heart beating. A note that allows me and my thoughts to be one.

An art that keeps me sane even when i feel like I’m losing my mind.

Him. A fiery blaze that sets her heart on fire. A strong scent she can’t help but smell from a mile away. The brightest star that lights up her dark sky. Her bright, white light at the end of the tunnel.

Him. A joint that brings her peace and serenity. The strength she needs when she loses abit of her own. A voice that gives her hope. A song she cant stop listening to. A muse.

Him. A soul she wants to explore and get lost with. A heart she wants to steal and call her own. The arms she wants to lay in. A body she wants to give love to.

Him. A hero that is smeered with melanin. A dangerous smile that makes her mad. A sin that doesn’t require repentance. A mystery novel that has her on her toes.

Him. A poem that has no ending.

I am a superhero. Not because I wear a red cape and fly around town with a theme song playing in the background. Not because I fight bad guys that rob banks. Not because I can read minds or breath fire. And certainly not because I have super speed or super strength.

I am a super hero because of the brown skin I wear. The skin that is my voice. A voice that has been trying to be heard since the beginning of time. The brown skin that has made me a victim. That has raised me to be a fighter.

I am a superhero because of the glistening black hair i wear. The crown on my head that can morph into any shape or size. The black hair i inherited from my ancestors. The part of me I can proudly call a work of art.

I am a superhero because of my accent. A rhythm that allows me to represent Africa. A sweet melody I am not ashamed to sing. A harmony my sisters and brothers can sing along to. An accent that follows me everywhere I go. I refuse to apologise for my supposedly wrong pronunciation.

I am a superhero because I am a black female trying to keep it together in this world. Walking everyday with my head held high even when my world is falling apart. Every step i take is made out of gold. Giving light to everything I touch.

So yes ask me again and I will tell you that I am a superhero in the form of Africa.

All of a sudden i’m pen shy. I finally get the chance and opportunity to share my art with the world and i become mute. Yet i stand in front of the starting line ready to run the race with so many thoughts racing in my head. Will i trip and fall? Will the world not cheer me on? Will I get to where I want to be?

To be honest the thought of sharing a part of me with the world is scary. Every day i wake up and question whether the world appreciates poetry and art the way I do. There is just something about my thoughts spilling on a piece of paper and my pen being my only companion. There is a rush that comes with rhythm and rhyme.

Poetry has become a huge part of me. Poetry is my art. Poetry is art. I am art. I was birthed by art.

Thank you for joining my journey. I really do hope you enjoy the ride with me. 😁