1st Hour  https://thepoetrymarathon.com/blog/seventhsolstise/i-am-i/ ‎

I Am I.

The evenings and the mornings,
Sunday - the first day,
Bikkurim.

I am the first fruits,
singleness,
Priestess...Israel.

Africa rooted,
the riches of glory...
Suffering suited
in darkness.

I tell my story,
I am black in light skin...
hope roped in chains 
of melanin - 
the Master Cylinder
of a rejected,
unprotected past.

I am present, past,
forever undisturbed
composition and positioned
among the diluted mixture
of whose child I am.

I am sweet, alagae syrup,
Black, white, red, brown
planted on fallow ground,
America I am...
broken and outspoken,
living a token life of
misnomers.

I know who I am...
Ann, Hanna, Anani, Ada,
Sadie...Beulah
in a strange land,
Brenda - Queen - blood from
the Motherland
Bright and shining star,
Seventh...perfect and entire,
wanting nothing but who
I am.