Beneath the Black

I was told my name is Black.

With pride I answered back.

In truth, this curly crown on my head

Is darker than the night,

But the weight of it does not define me

Or the colors that they choose not to see.

There is more underneath the tree

When you remove its bark.

I am a flush of browns

Underneath this curly black crown. Yes…

These eyes see more than the name they gave,

For golden brown color these halos of truth.

Beneath the black, red colors my blood

And the passion that they misjudged.

The fire they cannot perceive

Is the struggle that brought me here.

My colors that do not show

Is the wisdom they do not know.

If you look beneath the black,

You’ll find the sacrifices of generations past.

I am the product of two races.

With me are all their graces.

Who they called black and white,

Gave birth to this diversity now breathing.

I am the beauty of my father

And the strength of my mother.

They gave me this,

This golden fleece of skin and hair.

So do not think to tame

All my colors with a name.