Excerpt from “Poem book 5: My Soul To Take”
I live a life of technicolor;
so vivid they seep together.
swirled like paint on a palate,
looking for perfection in each patient stroke.
I see colour,
I see you.
but like colour,
your inner blackness,
takes in all the shades of unjustness:
for those who see colour,
and think them separate;
see them as elements of a human,
see static labels we associate with shades of skin:
they see it.
written in colour,
stretched over muscles,
they see it only good for labour,
toil they see too unfit to call work.
I see they’re true colour,
the thoughts that crept across empty minds,
ever notice we’re told taught see white as symbolic perfect?
some learned and swallowed it hold,
not seeing it ever blinding,
repels all waves;
all harmonies of vibrant simplicity,
try as is might to keep itself “pure”
by the isolation as a nature of repulsion;
they see acts,
as a means and measure,
to shades it could never be,
could never use to fill the empty,
Or even really see,
oh forgive me,
for being me,
but I see colour,
for what it was meant for:
a means of absorbing all,
embraced in a moment,
just to be whole.
that right mirror,
your inner “black”.