Serena Malcolm

I know I have power and I know its from my history

from the freedom fighters who gifted me my liberty

to the warriors and legends inside my own family

I know the electric charge of legacy that fires me

I draw strength from my ancestry

like we’re directly connected via USB

at times the power in me is a barely domesticated beast

(especially if you come for my family…)

but mostly, mostly my power is quiet, silent, exercised in private

as I console my daughter, who is sat here crying

from the playground comments about her hair or diet

as I teach my son how to talk to the police

how to navigate stop-and-search and still keep the peace

and in so doing, keep himself in one piece

it’s in every microaggression I ignore at work

in the sweet, sweet smile I give that bigoted jerk

not because I have no fight, but precisely because I do

because my power lies not in staying quiet, nor in speaking out,

but in knowing which and when to choose

besides, they say the pen is mightier than the sword, and I say I agree

because all the fire and fight, and power and pride

can be found inside my poetry

and long after I have left this world

when I’m in my power, resting free

my words will still be here fighting on

in the mind of my daughter and in the heart of my son

I’ve taken that inherited resilience, that collective resistance, and I’ve passed it on

and now the seeds of pride have begun to flower

our children carry pieces of a story that is ours

and that…

that is true power.