If you are Caucasian, they
don’t give you the right to color.
You are branded by incandescent
Light bulbs which bleach and leach the
Color out of your existence.
“Be remorseful, for this is your done deed.”
But I’m not remorseful, no, not me.
I’m not a defiler, derider, denier.
I am the daughter of the 60s, born in the 50s,
Sent into the future, now past, to be.
Yes, to be liberal, caring, sharing.
Don’t blame my color for the criminal’s
Crime. I fought for us, the social bottom.
Where my eyes have always been open,
My family fought to insure their message would survive.
I’m not to blame for other handheld knives
In throats blameless and innocent.
There is a knife in my throat, exposing me
As red blooded human in the act of surviving.