My Skin My Crown

My classmate told me my brown skin was gross

pointing out how different we were.

Confused and deeply wounded

I realized for the first time I wasn’t like everyone else.

Wanting desperately to fit in

but standing out like a sore thumb.

I begged God for my skin to be lighter

praying for nothing else each night.

Hoping the brown would wash away

scrubbing desperately in the bath until I was raw.

But no matter how hard I tried, I didn’t fit in

torment and embarrassment were constant companions.

Until I grew up and realized I wasn’t meant to be like them all

for this brown skin was a blessing

a gift from the heavens

given by the grace of the universe.

The colour of the soil

which nourishes the food that sustains us all.

The colour of the bark of trees

which give us the very air we breathe

As rich as the robes of monks

esteemed for their knowledge.

Shared by the Messiah

who many of the people that hate me hold dear.

The irony makes me smile at their foolishness

and my past despair

for skin that is brown

is a a source of pride

and a crown.