Ain't Nobody Can Write Down in A Book What You Worth

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　　Goods and chattel. The words from the leather book came into my head. We were like the gold leaf mirror and the horse saddle. Not full-fledge people. I didn't believe this, never had believed it a day of my life, but if you listen to white folks long enough, some sad, beat-down part of you starts to wonder. All the pride about what we were worth left me then. For the first time, I felt the hurt and shame of just being who I was.

People Who Lost Our Magic

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　　There was a time in Africa the people could fly. Mauma told me this one night when I was ten years old. She said, "Handful, your granny mauma saw it for herself. She say they flew over trees and clouds. She say they flew like blackbirds. When we came here, we left that magic behind."

　　My mauma was shrewd. She didn't get any reading and writing like me. Everything she knew came from living on the scarce side of mercy. She looked at my face, how it flowed with sorrow and doubt, and she said, "You don't believe me? Where you think these shoulder blades of yours come from, girl?"