Its not the colour of my skin
It is the fear my shoes stand in.
I thought it wouldn’t show
with weave and braid and bow.
But the terror tugged within
And clawed daily at my skin.
“Fit in” they said, with hollow grin
Is being Black a sin?
How do I fit? To what? To where?”
As I tear the bows from braided hair.
I take a seat and place my books
In walls that barricade the looks.
The teacher booming out my name
The one they gave me to feel the same.
They smile and laugh and make their choices
A sea of “fitting in” white faces.
They tell me they do not see my colour
So tell me please, who killed my brother?
So proud this Country of its races
Black white together, yet never to change places.
I see you playing this shameful game
The one where I’m too scared to say my true name.
This country pins its fame on equality
Its Queen allowing dark skin into royalty……..temporarily .
Remember the other of fair skin
Who rocked the boat you all safely sailed in?
She changed her title too
In trying to appease you.
Forever on the losing side
She ran to brown arms that opened wide.
That was her final and her biggest sin
In a land still judging on the skin.
Its time to open up your eyes
And trample down this Country’s lies.
Do not pass off jokes and jibes
As a Country keeping happy vibes.
That kind of thing keeps my race small
But now the Hierarchy are fit to fall.
You know you’re on the losing side
So show your hand or stand aside.
No longer will those that rein
Control me with their fear and shame.
As I braid my hair and use my name
The one I had before this game.
I feel a warmth once felt inside
My eyes finally thrown opened wide.
My journey starts now with new shoes
The terrors gone; you lose.
Photo by Jose Fontano