In the depths of forgetfulness, we lost the essence of Oshun's divine presence. We let go of the sweet scent of honey that once clung to her skin, forgetting the intoxicating allure that captivated our senses. Her laughter, once a melody that echoed through our souls, became a distant memory fading into oblivion.

Her melanin skin, like the shimmering gold that adorned her feet, held the radiance of our heritage. Yet, we allowed the pale faces of colonizers to cloud our perception, obscuring the beauty of our own melanin-rich hues. We forgot the power of our collective identity and succumbed to a false narrative of inferiority.

With each passing season, we neglected the bountiful harvest that Oshun once blessed us with. Our connection to the earth, once nurtured by ancestral wisdom, withered away. We abandoned the rituals and ceremonies that honored the cycles of nature, forsaking the abundance that was rightfully ours.

And as we distanced ourselves from Oshun's divine embrace, we lost sight of the precious gift of our firstborn child, the one we called upon her to bless. We relinquished our responsibility to nurture and protect the next generation, trading it for hollow pursuits and misguided priorities.

Oh, what a shame it is to forget the legacy that was woven into the fabric of our existence. Our ancestors fought valiantly, enduring the hardships and sacrifices, so that we could proudly carry the torch of our cultural heritage. Yet, we allowed their struggles to be in vain, discarding the very essence of who we are.

We wander aimlessly, carrying a sense of disdain within our souls, as if our lineage were not deeply rooted in the fertile soil of our ancestral homeland. Our nappy hair, once a symbol of resilience and beauty, is marginalized and shamed, as we chase after the distorted image of acceptability imposed upon us.

We are not the children of Father Abraham alone, for our lineage is rich and diverse, interwoven with the wisdom and spirituality of countless generations. Our love, once pure and nurturing, has transformed into a harsh and misguided form of discipline, perpetuating cycles of pain and disconnection.

How could we forget the essence of Oshun, the embodiment of love, beauty, and abundance? How could we forsake the very essence of our being, succumbing to a narrative that erases our truth and diminishes our worth?

Let us remember, for within remembrance lies the power to reclaim our heritage, to honor our ancestors, and to reignite the flame of Oshun's love within our hearts. May we find solace in the knowledge that the path to rediscovery lies within us, waiting to be embraced, celebrated, and shared with future generations.