Deeply Rooted

by Tiffanie Dzietror


My sons are murdered, bodies bloody in the streets for hours

My daughters are stolen from mine eyes with no search party, doomed for demise.

My brothers are enamored by gold chains, big backsides surface level lifestyles

My sisters not filling their heads with knowledge but covering their face nd head in toxin lyes

Our fathers, not all absent but those that are dont cause the scars that

Our mothers tough love and resentment can present

Our consciousness desensitized not realizing real lies written out before our eyes



My sons defy the systems traps every day,
though tacks, splinters and boards all torn up and getting in the way, they climb the compacted stairs anyway

My daughters learn to live past physical and societal infringements on their worth, black oceans leaping and wide, still they rise

My brothers can be loud as the rolling sea, as long as they know self they’ll always be free

My sisters relearning their queendom, eclipse their cradle curse, the struggle of suffering the weight of men
and the world

Our fathers feared yet fanciful, lovely yet lanced, evermore rocks, evermore rivers and evermore trees

Our mothers know that one morning the chain is gonna break. But until that morning they’re gonna take all they can take.

Our consciousness ascends



My sons in their stacked guerrilla wars rise

My daughters and their unique three-ness thrive

My brothers brazen with bold belief

My sisters sharing support’s sanctity

Our fathers resist and rally well

Our mothers charge and shock them in shells

Our souls,



This work contains heavy allusion from Maya Angelou’s Still I Rise and on the pulse of morning, Langston Hugh’s Mother to Son, James Baldwin’s Go Tell it on The Mountain, Chain of fools by Aretha Franklin and A rose is still a rose, James Weldon Johnson’s lift every voice and sing