This Girl

I met this girl who went to my college but never met each other formally. We were always facebook friends, but I never spoke to her. Low key, after reading her note ''things i h8'' I thought she was stuck up and unnecessary. However, months later I revisited her page via straight noseyness... the kind you get when you're bored so you decided to click on mad random people just to check them out. I saw it had stuff about Kemet on there and she was deep like me. So, I hit her up with a msg like a pressed dork on some "hey i see you like Blk history like me'' nonsense. lol...But we spoke more often and she wasn't the stuckup off chick I stereotyped her to be at all. In fact, shorty had a mind like gold and she was a really good person to talk to. Just straight real... so I decided to write this about her bc I think sometimes the prettiest souls in the world lose track of how special they are. (I know that's mad gooey). But yeah her name Alanna aka Stroke so check it out:


Alanna:
"I didn't have a dream, I didn't have a vision, I had a voice...it took me to the statues of Kemet, i heard it excavate Lucy, then the voice rose like heat rises with bubbles to the bottom of a star...it dangled from Heru's view and blew...blew with such force that the sahara's sand flew up in a frenzy...suspended in midair each sand particle, every dirt speck and lost garment...then the voice ceased to shout...it went to the sand to get a better look, blinded by the luminous browns and ambers it went blind with beauty and couldn't find its way out...for centuries it remained...Then i had a vision of a being..every inch of fineness filled her...her toes were colored and smooth like a ripe mango's skin...the arch of her heel like the arch of Khafu.. her legs and arms carved from layers of assuredness, her midriff rippled like heatwaves up to a hefty bosom of pride which hung from the lean neck produced a face...a face Zeus would slay for, a face that procured eyes of deep thought,once closed but now re-opened, eyes of insight, eyes of the sahara's sand...eyes of oceans where ships carrying the saharan sands crash, i meant eyes of liquour carrying brooklyn sons crash...these eyes were her weapon...with them she not only saw evrything...she saw truth and righteousness...the eyes of Ma'at's soul...she saw herself..regained her voice...and after centuries she spoke again...she saw again...then spoke she didnt say freedom she said peace...and found herself out from under the luminous browns and amber..she was a stunning rose petal red and she ran down the left cheek of Jesus Cristo...she was the finest thing I ever seen...but I swear I didn't have a dream"-DYJ