You’re brown, I’d say, but some say black,
or African-American. I don’t know what
to say.
When Girl drew a picture in class,
and brought it home, and
showed you:
curly hair,
purple skin,
you, depicted.
When you said, “What color is my skin?”
She said, “You black.” You said,
“But look,”
and Daughter drew her
fingers on your skin,
on rocky waters
palm-tree lined and
left behind for years
of what is this?
depiction.
It’s waves for days and sickness suffered.
It’s taken two-hundred-fifty years, and we’re
still counting.
Girl looked and said what I’ll say now, that it’s no matter
‘cept truth be told, “I see you, and
you brown.”
Photo Credit: Cyril Chebot Flickr via Compfight cc
