This skin,
Has always been a golden reflection of a _radiance
_I didn’t know was already in my veins
This skin, has my Mother’s face but her grandmothers tone
This skin smiles like her Father and verbally rambles like him too
My siblings are all various shades of chocolate and caramel
We are the candy store; my great-grandmother always saw the sign
NO C O L O R E D S
This world,
Has a dangerous way of reminding me who I am
Pulls history out of its pockets like a taunting reminder that this life I live,
Was not founded on ease
It is built on sacrifice and lives taken
**Built on railroad tracks and Selma marches**
**I am wondering, when will I start feeling my ancestors in my tongue
**When will they start to speak on behalf in the midst of my occasional ignorance
When will they begin to start pumping in my heart too conditioned in living in the present?
I am wondering, when our world will stop backwards stumbling into a place coated in hate based off of how you look or how you love
This skin, is not a threat
This love, is not a threat
My brother is many shades darker than me
He looks like all the little boys I keep seeing in twitter hash tags and on t-shirts
My brother is nine years old and already over five foot
Everyone, would see his skin as a threat
Until you know what it is like to cuddle his still small body in your hands
You will not see…that he is nothing like a threat
I have friends, whose color in comparison to mine would be seen outrageous if we dared stepped anywhere together
We are the reminders, that we are moving so much further ahead than we thought
I know, what its like to fall in love with someone who’s skin would make adversity wrap around your story and squeeze the life out of it
If judgment came knocking on our doors we would tell it, there is no room for you here
This mouth spews poetry that somehow always traces back to rapping,
I kid you not, the only rhythms flowing through this tongue is a mouth that has fallen for one too many words
I do not want to be seen for only this skin,
This skin,
Has always been a golden reflection of a radiance
I didn’t know was already in my veins
This skin, has my Mother’s face but her grandmothers tone
This skin smiles like her Father and verbally rambles like him too
This skin,
is creative and passionate
there are dreams tucked underneath each layer
before you see anything,
I pray you see that
This smile,
This dimple,
These hands and how well they hold
This mouth and its love for words
We were not created to be just skin,
We are a collection of marvelous things
It would be a shame,
If all that you saw was only on the surface
Imagine how much you would miss.
Photo by Megan Floris
