t r o p i c a l d e p r e s s i o n

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I turn my tv on,
The channel is turned to the news as always.

The first thing to come out of the anchors mouth is that we are in a tropical depression.

Tropical Depression. Noun.

an atmospheric low-pressure system originating in the tropics, specifically, a tropical cyclone, in which the maximum sustained  wind speed is 38 miles per hour (62 kilometers per hour) or less.

Now what this really means is hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.

For as long as I can remember, every hurricane I had ever heard of had the name of an indigenous woman.

I have come to believe that these are the souls of the woman who have been done wrong in their lifetimes.

The woman who sacrificed more than necessary to be the mother of a child they never got to see.

The woman who paved her way with the bones of those who kept her in constant pain as they beat her through and through.

The woman who decided that death was better than a future she did not want to be apart of.

These tropical cyclones house the souls of the women slaves. Slaves who were beaten, taken against their will, forced to be something they were not.

They house the souls of the women who led their people to glory, who sacrificed themselves for the betterment of a society they did not live in.

The souls of the women who have been much more than any man, who have taken the rain of oppression and used it to create a hurricane of emotion that wrecked havoc on the ones who doubted their power.

These winds are the heavy sighs that have escaped every woman and girls mouth alike.
Hiding together until they have reached a speed one cannot detain.

These rains are the tears of those who have sacrificed. Who have fought to make sure we ate. Who made it their life purpose to make sure we lived.

The destruction left behind revenge for what has been taken from them.
Mother nature finally taking her vengeance for the children she has lost.

We are in a tropical depression,and I am not afraid to admit that we deserve it.

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