I hope I'm the prism

When I look at my feet,

Tan and splotchy

I see my mother’s

The two that carry me now

Exact replicas of what lifted me

In the first years of my life

When I look at my eyebrows,

Umber and furrowed

Raising quizzically at remarks

I’m reminded of my father’s

How they react to jokes

With a personality of their own

When I look at my hands,

Baby pink and creamy

Smooth, clean, untouched

I see the work of generations

Allowing me to lead

The gentle life I do

When I look at my eyes,

Olive and freckled

The mirror reflects

A soft, ice cream swirl

Of my father’s warm brown

And my mother’s electric blue

When I look at my scars,

Ivory and contrasted

I do not see damaged skin

I see laughter, tears, and dirt

They remind me of my childhood

I see a life full of freedoms

When I look at my dark freckles,

Chocolate and amber

I see a clear sky at night

some big, some small

close and far apart

My fair skin is speckled with stars.

When I look at my body,

Honey and sand

I see love and hatred

The parts I embrace and the ones I don’t

Each woven into my skin

Indistinguishable from the other

When I look at my feet,

Tan and splotchy

I see a tool, an opportunity

I see progress

I see one foot in front of the other

I see white light not yet split into rainbow

(I hope I'm the prism)