They tried to bury us, but they didn't know we were seeds." -Mexican Proverb
"What didn't you do to bury me/But you forgot that I was a seed."-Dinos Christianopoulos
They didn't know when they took us from our homes, packed us on ships, sold us like cattle, and owned our personhood that we were seeds.
The seeds of queens.
They us drowned in the waters of the Atlantic. Hung us from trees like wet laundry to dry out and rot in the sun. They shoot us down in the streets with a Justice blind to everything but the melanin that pigments our skin.
But we are the seeds of queens.
Or maybe they do know and that's why we're redlined and zoned into unnatural habitats like zoo animals, then pushed back out, why our children are piped from failing schools to prisons, and why the "construct" of race is more violent toward our bodies than "social".
Maybe they knew we were the seeds of queens and that's why fear of our difference manifested into beliefs, systems, and institutions of oppression designed to make US forget our own power. But they forgot that sometimes rubbing, filing, and scraping the surface of a seed further ignites germination. That even roses can bloom in the sidewalks of concrete ghettos. That every buried thing finds its way back into the light eventually.
They forgot we are magic. That what you fight to push down still finds a way to rise. What haven't they done to suppress our wonder and nullify our humanity. But while their memory is short, ours is not: we are the seeds of queens.