Skin

February 13, 2018

SKIN

(Tribute to The Color of Water)

We were born to a mother and father who bathed me in possibilities

And swaddled in civility

It felt like immunity

And twelve kids were great company

But others saw differently,

I had my doubts that came true

But didn't want to see them through,

People walk around their faces placid

But you took me in under no circumstances,

And I didn't ask for you, mother,

But maybe we were made to see color,

These dark shades of black and brown

Have never been able to put you down,

You raise your soldiers up to be diligent and free

But boundaries are put up by society,

Born to a white woman and black man

They stand together hand-in-hand,

They try to drown us with hatred and despair

But you can see us floating there,

We try to cope with dope yet we know there’s still hope

It’s not a joke,

And my mother’s soldiers once again rise up from the graves

Of which race has confined them

But we choose not to be divided then,

I have come to terms with my identity

But how can I know you

If I do not know me,

Was twice I’ve seen a person die

And come alive to say they survived,

My mother,

We try to hide our history

But you cannot hide what has been seen.

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