Black Lives …

We do not reach enough readers as Black writers. The potential readers we write for and about are hardly interested in hearing about their wretchedness, our collective soci0-economic death. The Black women we wail for and worship at our altars of poetry, lyrical supplications and tearful prayers, are not there to listen to our cries

Rites and Writs of Kemetic Practice

The sky has opened for me, I am a living one, a son of Sopdet. My house in the sky will never perish, The sky has opened for me, My throne on earth will never be plundered. Pyramid Texts: Utterance #302 The Souls of Anu drew him up the steps, one by one, and the