RE: vel(ry) in Color

I am a colored man.
Made of love, kindness, patience and faith.
Searching for a modus vivendi that optimizes freedom and individuality.
But such a simplistic approach is no longer tenable, they say.

I am a colored man, miseducated in my youth.
And though my color was once strictly axiomatic — 
May my tongue cling to the roof of my mouth for forever of forevers
If I do not remember you
And if I do not consider you my highest joy.
You have become my reason for falling.
Like rain to oceans and sun to moon.
I am flushed with fever and embarrassed by your serenity.

We, like water for chocolate.
But, I must admit, my strength is like that of mustard seeds.
And my impulses are that of a child’s.
I know nothing of gulags, prison cells, and hospital beds.
Nothing of being hounded, exiled, reviled, and pilloried.
But in this, the wetness of your whimper,
I erupt like boiled silver.
And, my tears, like nectarine juices. 
Soil the dirt of archaic heroes who once loved you like kindred spirits
The grip, pushing up through flowers.
Sugars and salts of the earth.

But, in this moment, I take root with my brothers and sisters.
In this, the sand of human brains and scattered bouquets.
Come, un-civilize the tamed heart in me. 
I am two throats and one eye in your presence.
You are the green in my water.
I ask, when will history redefine and celebrate my radicalism?

I am a colored man in style, form, and diction.
Made of love, kindness, patience and faith.
Everything is not as everything should be.
And given this, I choose not to transcend my race, but embrace it.