White

White.

An absence of color that, coincidently, makes its own color.

A fairly new concept; “What is it to be White?”

I’ve been scrutinized and played down but such spiteful white eyes.

I, however, have been mixed with too much of one or the other on the great artist’s palette.

A child of two worlds.

Too white to be Korean and too yellow to be white.

I have no place to call my own.

I was told to go back to the Land of Dragons.

Insulted in one breath while “my people” are praised for their food in another

All in the same hour.

If I was more open and honest with that lady, so happily munching on her egg roll,

what could I have said?

What will they do if they discover

the gods they so revere come from Asia?

That the fairies they mention

Hail from the lands of naan

That the originals were replaced with the fae

As they know them.

It’s not Europe where the pride comes from

But a sick perversion of the white american dream

What would Odin say to these naysayers that would gaze

Upon his almond all-knowing eye?

The hate being spat, what if it indicates

A need for something to call their own

After being grafted into lands, not entirely their original home?

The sins of the ancestors are a hefty burden, I should know.

I feel half of that guilt even still a person of color.

Yet an example of the color white should be followed.

It is still able to make its own

In the absence of all this color.