We are born with clumsy fingers

Eyes bigger than our mouths

Wobbly legs and squeaky voices 

Though we are born with the strength to hold a fist, to grasp

And I think that says a lot about us as people

We are resilient from the beginning

But we must learn that it’s not all as easy

As making a fist, or holding on to something physical

But grasping an abstract concept

Learning how to utilize our strength

To defend and prosper within a world

Where people do not all read what you write

But often skim the surface

And decide that they do not like what they see

 

Because with a fist, you can triumph

And with those clumsy fingers, write

Hold a pen and an idea 

We all write to release

To escape

To express how the world

Has forced us 

To use our fists

 

The girl with dark skin and sullen eyes

Writes to spread a message

That she is no different from anyone else

She was born

And made her fist

Though hers had to be much stronger

Because she was born in a world where not everyone grasps

The fact that we are all equal 

Thrown together in a melting pot full of blank slates

Learning to defend and express

Learning to leave their mark and become their own

This girl was born with no silver spoon in her mouth

But the valor of a hero

The intensity and strength of the waves

To come crashing down on those who only skimmed her surface

Or tossed her aside

She will rise like the sun

And set with many greats

The girl with the darker skin

Is actually much brighter than most

Though not everyone will read deeper into her

The few that do not just skim the surface

But dive much deeper beneath her waves

Will be the luckiest of the bunch

And they will not forget

The girl

Whose skin did not matter

But the girl

With the words that carried her heavy heart

And the hands that not only defended

But did so much more than that

The hands that grasped both the concepts

And the edges

To pull herself up and pull everyone else

Beneath her waves and into the rip tide

Down to the floor of her ocean

That shows no color

 

 

Maybe the girl

That was born without proper speech

And not much hearing

But the ability to believe that she can use her voice in a different way

To prove to the world that she is here

For when she was small

She asked her mother

Signing with clumsy fingers

“Why?”

Why she did not breathe or speak

The way her sister did

And with tears in her eyes

Her mother smiled

And told her that she was special

Special enough to carry with her a message

Of great power

And enough potency to draw others in  

Although she is quiet

It is impossible not to hear her

 

“I make little sound but you will hear

I am powerful

My actions and my words

Will resonate in your chest   

Like the sound of the drums

That guide the soldiers home

I am not weak

I am mighty

And you will hear me”