From “To the Women In My Lineage” by Bree Smith

When I think of the woman in my lineage, 

I know that I carry their strength, 

Their unfaltering confidence,

The unwavering backing of their truth

I stand on the backs and soil of tenacity,

Of tightly grasped complacency,

Steadfastness rooted in self-approbation

The backs I stand on remain beacons of strength, flood lights shining on their supposed truths,

Ever a reminder of the power of my voice, 

One that could demand destruction with a snap can surely be re-aimed 

I know that I carry lost voices, lost dreams

Silenced by the backs I stand on

The dirt beneath my feet reminding me I carry it all:

Their strength, their steadfastness,

Their cruelty, their games, their sick pride;

The revelry in death at their hands, their words

But, I carry it so differently

I am here to turn them on their head, make them roll over

On their stomach in the dirt, they’ll hear me change it, change everything

Their choices are not mine, but the strength is and I will continue to break it open; 

That strength now used as a propulsion of love, and never again hate

— I carry such power; I mustn’t misuse it