Lack of melanin
In strands around my face
Appeared sooner and sooner
As I covered and hid.
She begged me to jump in
And make a splash,
But I paused
Thinking of my color fading.
In that moment
True self crystalized
As I threw away the bottle in my mind
And dove into Life.
Present, authentic
Embracing myself
And changing concepts of beauty and age,
I began, “I am.”
Each day it grows
A fingerprint at my crown
And a light to her path
Of love and affirmation.
What began as colorless lack
Grows into an abundant prism
Embodying a confident example
Of the sum of my days.
About the Creator
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from death into life
Young Aldin of Wiloh had never contemplated death. It was almost strange — so many around him had the tendency to obsess over it, to clamor and claw almost desperately at their own perceptions of the end to know death as much as they could: when it would come, why it would come, where it would take them when it did.
By angela hepworth7 days ago in Fiction
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