I AM NOT WHITE

I am not white...

Not white, but tones of pink

of gentle shades of tawny

with constellations on my skin

of greater and lesser

browns.

My eyes are blue

or sometimes more like grey.

It's a mood thing

or a product of surroundings

and ecologies.

My blood is red

as bright

as anyone's.

My hair has lived through

sun-touched gold

and lightish, dullish brown,

and through fads of colors

unnatural

And come to white and grey

and a touch of aqua

for the fun of it!

The heart of my heart

pulses

in all the colors there are

of skin,

of culture,

of self-declaring genders

and identities;

of rainbows between

the steel-grey of storms,

the hollow shadows of

ignorance,

the depths and darks of

benightedness.

Like the Sun

I strive

for wholeness of light,

to be all colors

though, like everyone,

I walk in forests' shades,

swim in ocean's currents,

squint against squalls

not always of my own making.

Tones change with moving clouds,

like feelings,

impulses sparked,

concentration,

fascination;

by the fears engendered

by the certainties of others...

I am bowed down

sometimes

by all I do not know

or understand.

I weary of the uphill climb

from time to time.

I fret for all the folk

who also climb,

and somehow believe

they know the only way;

by those also who cling

to clumps of grass,

to thrusting stone,

and somehow believe

they've reached the top...

Still, I want to be

the brightness

of the Sun...

I want to be, meantime,

all the colors that I am.

I am not white.