(RE)VEiL

To conceal, and what is not,

over the light

within the pores of my skin,

[to you]

to anyone,

the sanguine lore of a kind

for a moment in time.

For one day at a time.

For the volition to hide

the tone

and the origin of life,

[its belching roar]

to distract you

for a moment in time.

Retinas sublime

[I observe you]

do not discern the shades

in my Heart,

cathartic rhythms,

covering sins

remediation for the hunger

of prejudiced eyes.

I am the tinge of an impudent game

at hand,

self-reflection, or an anonymous collection

of Honor and Self-Regard.

Now finding the dissatisfaction,

I envision,

in a complexion of some pigmentation

and sight,

I say:

- My flag

- My roots

- An indigenous sign

I can be whatever you prefer

without paint

and without camouflage.

If you cut me open,

you will comprehend

the tinges of my past:

Mixed contours of crimson

from old and new lands.

The display will turn spinous

if you pierce the ties,

the ties of my lineage

intended so often

to be clarified.

The same I told myself once,

my little lad, to protect You,

That the darkness was first cast

for a reason,

before there was any light —

to conceal

from the world [and from them]

who I am

for a moment in time.

But when the moment was over

You belonged to no other

at last,

and You were not theirs,

You see?

And You were no color.

You were simply mine.