Thursday, November 22, 2007

And the poems continue

Do rainbows care
what colors they compose?
Above the rest, set one hue?
I don't know.
Don't think they do.

So why do I care?
Why does my darker side
battle the lighter me?
Do my colors decide
what I should be?

Do you care?
Coffee with cream
Black mixed with White
Am I what I seem?
Or is me all right?

Yes I care.
But not what you think.
I love what to me the Indian gave
And the Black hair with its kink
that taught mine to wave.

I do care.
Love my tone from white pouring in its milk
From China almond eyes and the texture of silk.
All of this is mine.

Of course I care.
I look at me and know
where everyone has been.
You see, it shows
they're all in my skin.

I'm going to try my best to stay away from what bothers me in the writing or the inaccuracies in this poem and merely focus on what fascinates me about it.

I find it interesting that there was a time - though I do remember it fairly well - that I was so comfortable with, even invested in, my multi-ethnicity.

What I don't know is when I changed from being interested in the sum of the pieces to finding peace of mind in the whole.


The Bear Maiden said...

uh, it's called "poetic license" for a reason! LOL. I like that one! You were so self-deprecating about your poetry I was wondering how untalented you were... but you're not at all.

I thought you were coming to see me today????

Fat Lady said...

Thanks. I really have to lay off that self-deprecating thing. It's a defense mechanism - create low expectations for people so I can exceed them. Bad habit. I'm glad you like the poem.

Doulala said...

Thank you for allowing your self to be vulnerable.
I especially love this one.