The book is a poetic biographical journey from childhood to womanhood. Azaan feels that Spirit used her as a tool to share these words, so that the world would embrace and love all unconditionally. This book is emotionally charged from beginning to end with pain, love, passion, and triumph! This book gives voice to a collection of life’s stories, some through a child’s eyes! The poems express many things people feel or think, but don’t have the courage to say. The book is a vivid look into society and the world as a whole. Writing the book was not only therapeutic, but it proves the wounded will not only crawl but walk!

Azaan is a nationally syndicated journalist, poet, and photographer. She is the former Editor of SBC and GBF Magazines. Currently she is the Creative Director of the new STUD Magazine. Azaan has also written for numerous publications, and has two published books. Azaan is currently part of the Virgin Moon Entertainment Production team, an independent film and television company. Virgin Moon’s most recent film success is My Nappy Roots, a documentary about the African Diaspora’s relationship and spirituality with their hair.  Azaan has shared her amazing poetry at several Underground exhibits at the prestigious Getty Museum. Azaan uses her writing as tools to educate, empower, and uplift all people. Azaan believes through knowledge and understanding there is no force that can oppress us.

Suffering In Silence

In masses they walked with closed eyes.

Brathas & sistahs, sitting back.
Not knowing, not accepting that knowledge & prevention are they keys to life.

Some blinded with homophobic vision and fear.
Another prejudice.
Believing only gay persons are at risk.

Sightless and complacent.
Running, hiding their truths as if they will be erased.
Our own finding comfort in saying nothing…

Blood of our mothers flowing through us, our ancestral strength,
How would they see us, what would they think?
Some preached, shouting from pulpits you are a deviant.

A walking, breathing abomination.
Yelling AIDS is GODS wrath.

Many sat back while their communities decayed.
Perpetuating the thundering silence that equals death.

Economic and social status dictating life or an early demise.

Addiction, poverty, unemployment, teen pregnancies and of course access to heath care all dimming the possibilities of testing negative…

No longer can we watch while toxins seep into our communities.
While unconsciously writing books of tomorrow’s  history,
Eliminate the plague of non-acceptance.

Again. Prevention is the key to life,
We know this as we the hold the hands of those who have died.

Behind My Eyes

When I sit in silence behind my eyes I see
Shimmering obsidian skin
Sierra Leone, Senegal, Nigeria & Ghana.

I see Cameroon.
I see the Great Choctaw Nation,
Crow, Blackfoot & Seminole.
I see Cherokee trails of tears.

Amidst this nation of African Indians & Indians Africans.
I am made whole but shattered!
Shattered by acts against my own committed by my own.

Behind my eyes, we the Samba have drowned in genocide.
On the banks of destruction while our copper skin gleams in vain.

Behind my eyes I see impoverished minds seeking solace in the arms of greed.
Escaping into the illusions of alcoholic peace or drug induced joy.

Escalades and Aliz’e, gold teeth and bling , but really who are we?
We are blind for we think this is the truth of Spirit.

When I close my eyes, I wonder who holds the key.
Is it the chuch or the preacha man, shoutin, yellin,
Condemning those who fear to stand.