My Skin

My skin is the brown of

Coffee with creamer, of

Melting milk chocolate.

My skin is kissed and

Caressed by the sun,

Warmed from the outside

In, caramel and ochre

And mahogany.

My skin tells the story

Of my ancestors,

Those who crossed oceans,

Willingly and unwillingly,

Interweaving with one

Another to lead to me.

My skin is the earth come alive,

The universe laughing at itself,

Sometimes hurting, sometimes grieving,

But always learning from its mistakes.

My skin is the brown of

My mother’s eyes,

Her dream that she never

Knew she had because

I came out of

Seemingly thin air.

My skin bears the

Marks of a life I am

Slowly learning to love

Because I am still here.

Against all odds and

Expectations, my skin whispers,

“I am still here.”