Shades

Maybe, if I was two shades lighter

I'd be bright enough

to shield you

from my proverbial darkness.

Maybe, I'd never be last place

field familiar

but first placed

house slave.

Bruises instead of lashes

on the inside of my thighs

All

colored.

Maybe, my stretch marks wouldn't strike

like lightning bolts

on the side of my hips.

See existence marked my womb

with inscription

"Enter with caution,

the void lies ahead."

I birthed the night.

Maybe, I would be the victim for once.

Being picked

and pricked at

like a voodoo doll.

Black magic called skin

rained down over me

bidding by

some ghostly tether

pulling me from comfort

to internal disdain.

Grab bottles of bleach

with a ghost like emptiness

feel the chemicals rewash my chemistry. Hear the shadowed voice say

"happiness exists in three shades.

Yours, not one of them"

Maybe, I'd raise my hand

and people would understand

the fact that diamonds fall from my tongue instead of expecting the firewood

they brimmed at my lips.

Especially considering

my skin bore the riches

this land was made on,

stolen from earth

three shades darker.

Maybe, I wouldn't be a secret lover

because he loves

"the way he contrasts with lighter tones and mine matches his own so

it's too manly.”

Guess it's a testament

on why dark skinned men

can't truly love themselves.

Maybe, I will claim the throne

of every hood priests

and ratchet queen

left way side

by a critical society.

My eyes

have been given

the gift of clairvoyance

it is the voice

of the ancestors speaking

through me

and maybe, just maybe

dark skin will lead us

from this white washed

reality to a place

of color.

Maybe.