Volume VIII, Issue I Strange Wests – Myth-making & The Archive section banner

Kaylie Williams

Ancestors

I wonder what parts of me did not come easily

I wonder what their names were

The names their mother whispered over them

Singing lullabies of peace

She could not afford to give

I wonder if my skin came from forbidden love

Or from men taking things that did not that belong to them

I hope she knew she did not belong to him

That she was God’s and one day she’d march on to Zion

I wonder if she looked to heaven as her only escape

Or in defiance found hope in this world

I know she had hope that one day she’d be free

And I hope she knows she found it in me.

Black church

There’s a joke going around that goes

You haven’t been to church until you’ve been to a Black one

Critiques call it theatrical, some calling it eccentric

Where children are catching ghost

Where Bishops are prophets

There they play the classics– for African Americans at least

Swing low, sweet chariot sings loudly from the sanctuary

I always knew church was the second best thing to home

I never thought of Christianity as White Men propaganda

Because of spirituals, because of Moses,

Because it was Nat Turner’s God that told him

He could be free

I never thought Christianity was a White Man’s religion

But I don’t discredit its history so while it might have been

A Black person hell, it could just as easily be their sanctuary.

Kaylie Williams is a passionate and driven individual, currently 20 years old, on the journey towards completing her undergraduate degree in English. Writing poetry is not just a hobby for her; it’s a deep-seated passion that fuels her creativity. Whether it’s exploring human emotions or delving into social issues, poetry allows Kaylie to articulate her innermost thoughts and connect with others on a profound level.

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