My Mother was a Brown skinned Queen
Some parts Chocolate, others Caramel, and all the shades in-between.
Her eyes were bright, Hazel, joyous,
Watching me as I made a mess of her favourite recipe; I’m sure now they were hiding her annoyance.
Her cheeks were Rosy, speckled with freckles.
Always scrunched, held in place by a smile.
Her hair Black, though she would call it ‘really dark Brown.’
The bouncy and curly strands would cradle me at night.
These were the shades I knew and loved, unwilling to see any others.
Time and age forced my hand, to take a look at the shades of my mother from a different stance.
Her eyes now shone with flecks of Blue and Green,
the likes if which id never seen.
Her cheeks were no longer rose, but Beige,
Like worn down props, showing their age.
Her hair was thin, Greying and dry.
It looked so bad she would sometimes cry.
Mum left one day and I didn't know why.
Others left too, before she came back, but when she did she was right on track.
Her eyes Hazel, her cheeks Rosy, her hair ‘really dark Brown’ - now with the help of a box dye.
I know her now in more of her colours, though, I doubt I will ever know them all. She no longer hides her annoyance or cradles me at night. Despite this lost time I know her more.
My mother is still a Brown skinned Queen, with more colours in her mosaic—and with that came a depth and range that others can only know a shade of.
About the Creator
Keep reading
More stories from writers in Poets and other communities.
Autonomy Is The Real Privilege
Good morning, freedom-seekers! Today we’re gonna be looking at autonomy. A strange word, I know; one many would probably look at blankly and run away from on sight. We’re gonna figure out what it actually means, consider how it’s achieved, and decipher just how deeply most of us are tangled up in dependence without realising it.
By That ‘Freedom’ Guy4 days ago in Humans
Thoughts on Vocal and the way the world is
"Death cannot stop true love, only delay it." – Wesley in The Princess Bride. I decided to come back to Vocal on a very cold and dark night at the end of December. I had been, and still am, convalescing from a horrible staph infection that had gone misdiagnosed for months. This, paired with the increasing challenges of being healthy, making the best choices for my co-parented child, being a wife, and being a director at a new job, was a lot to manage.
By Jazzy 6 days ago in Confessions
Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.