“You’re so black” and just like that the skin I once cherished becomes my biggest
disgrace. Oh repugnant thing! Why must you cover me like this,
swallow me whole, leave no room, for light, for pure, for goodness, for holy
innocence,
why can’t you make me decent, why must you be a constant memory of
hardship, of difficulty, why must you make me different? Subject to even more
criticism. But perhaps this is most true, this skin so black, acts a shield,
protection from the hurt you throw at me.
“big lips” a reminder that I did not choose to be a poet but rather was given these
lips for a reason. You must ever wonder why such tender beauty prefers the
darkness.
How can such “black” blood be so mild and mellow and beautiful
Such golden sweetness
the heavy sun laying itself to rest on our skin.
I know your God sits in disposition, this blessing, this “black” magic he graced
upon us to wear as skin being called into question.
look how they failed you, with their fluttering thumbs and ignorance, failed your
marvelous “black” creations.
‘Black’ was originally published in Issue 3 of Paper Lanterns, when Angel Ifyawuchi was 17.
