WE WHO ARE DARKER THAN BLUE

blue

The color of grass is less green

When us the people darker than blue

Dance in light

Walk in shadow

Shed skins and walk naked

Rejecting social structuralism simultaneously celebrating and

Disarticulating

The black girl that is rumoured would rather be called brown – says her blood runs thick with Portuguese and this is the reason

The singular reason

She says I am not colored – this I am told by someone purchasing for Colored Girls Who have Considered Suicide When the Rainbow is not Enuf

Holding Nzoke Shange in weathered lined pale, palms as balm for a girl uncomfortable with being darker than the color blue – living in a space in between – a social construct of which she has become master architect

I suspect with wisdom gathered like nits, weeds grown too wild in my garden

There is more

I suspect her rejection of blue/black is seeded by inherited struggle making the sky less blue – the tastes of sugar less than sweet on bitter tongue, the passing of days carrying heavy poignancy marked by a general

Conservatism of joy

Hope

The blaspheming of faith with worry

She sows these seeds as I do in front of mirrors that are no less than objective – barely observant – unblinking – breakable but

Reflective

 

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