You’re the galaxy condensed in Black beauty, in God beauty, skin historical like onyx, like maduros and chinola. You’re glorification. Enriched with culture and music, you taste like rebellion. Like a slave revolt in Haiti. Like supremacy. Tell me your name. Tell me your wisdom. I have heard of you from the librarians. From the book keepers. From the record takers. I heard you in the words my godmother hummed to me as a babe. I know of you. But I dont know you. I want to know you. The legend.