My Name

It is simple.
It is easy.
My name is common.
It holds no apostrophes,
Or surprise silent letters.
It is simple.
It is pure.
My name is white.
White like the rays that shine through the window
Soft, holy columns that make the carpet glow,
White like the lady's starched church clothes,
Crisp and righteous like the skin on her nose.
It is simple.
It is easy.
My name is neat.
My name neatly hides the shackles that were on my feet,
The rope around my neck,
The whip welts on my back,
the burns of which scarred long ago,
But the hold was still there.
IS still there.
Like an enthusiastic maid,
My Name
Sweeps up the remains
Of long dead kings and queens,
Desert jewels and dreams of great of things,
Dusty monuments rising,
the life-giving river singing,
Triangle  tombs,
Glorifying the womb,
Intelligent beings who could map the stars
But ignorant to their own doom.
My name sops up and mops up
The paint passionately splattered
On the dark faces of hopeful young boys,
Light shining from their sweat
And through their eyes as future men.
Future rulers of great nations
Stupidly selling their subjects to strangers
Oh, hindsight.
My name muffles the sound
Of my twinkling bracelets
Kinkling together
As I ran across the savannah
Bellowing my breath like the great lion would,
Expressing emotion through every syllable.
It is simple.
It is easy.
My name is sweet.
It covers me in powdered sugar
making me easier for the world to take in.
It is pure.
It is white.
And I guess its better that way
isn't it?

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