Colors, the girl in the hat, jealousy
My skin may not be white,
but I still bleed red
and my black blood runs thick
in these streets due to blue hands.
My blood courses through the veins of a country
that built its home on the back of my great-great-great grandfather
one lash at a time
and on the ruins of my native ancestors
who inhabited this land far before you sailed over.
Red caps say to “Make America Great” again,
whether you’re in a blue or red state
you’ll find someone who discriminates
because we are a country defined by colors–
divided by colors.
We try to pride ourselves as a rainbow,
or declare ourselves a melting pot,
but we are a land of Jim Crow and Exclusion Acts.
We are a history of colored wars in which white always wins.
Our fathers founded a country on red, white, and blue;
but it’s time we accepted that our country is brown, black, and yellow too.
The Girl in the Hat
I am the girl in the hat
sitting in the window
drinking coffee ponderously.
You are the stranger
You smile at me
when we catch eyes
then you go on your way.
I am the girl with the curly hair
in a city I’ve never known.
Yet here you are with a glow so warm
you’ve made it feel like home.
Slowly it creeps in
a green haze so heavy and thick that
it sticks to every corner
of your being
weighing down the spring leaves and
saplings of content
green turns to black and
confidence to second guesses
what once was known
now an unanswerable question a delusion
instilled by fear fossilized under
the tar of doubt
yearning straining begging
to be set free and relinquished from the
mossy chains that squeeze out the life in
violent pulses and explosions like a sand-filled ball
under a hand in distress
Green is the color of calamity.
green is color of peace