Forage through the timeline that is of me


Like cracked paint on a fossilized wall, I want 

to peel, pick and uncover the memories of My Blackness 

that embellish the inner makings 

of my consciousness and 

allow the air of my breath,

the air that spoon-feeds these nostalgic moments with

shimmer, infinity, and a deep sense of life, to slowly 

expose the artifacts of the mind.

As each memory in time is pulled apart, I begin to see all of me.

I can see, taste, and exist with the ingredients of My Blackness.

I see the incense smoke of my orange bricked home. 

The smoke that acts as the building blocks to all the

physical elements that exist and exhale in that space.

                 I can see 





                       of     the        smoke 

as it displays images and vibrations

only those who reside here can decipher.

(With each scent, 

a new fable is unlocked)

I see my mother, the woman 

who was the first person to teach me 

what real Black beauty is, braiding my

coils every night, nurturing my scalp with

Blue Magic, Black spirit, and vitality.

I see who I once was: A young gay Black boy





but was one who always grew flowers from the 

palms of his chocolate hands

and whose blood was purple and gold.

The love letter to my Blackness

is written using the fingers of experience and 

on the paper of time passed, and of time yet unknown.

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Mustafa '23 is planning on majoring in Sociology with a double minor in Africana Studies and Creative Writing. While he's the editor for the Op/Ed section for The Muhlenberg Weekly, he's also an advocate for marginalized communities, specifically for queer communities and communities of color. He's also a lover of poetry and plans on going into a career of journalism post-college.


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