i am pale because my ancestors took a ship to the land of opportunity
don’t curse the bones
curse the soul.
i am gorgeous no matter what color my skin is
it’s time we outcast our differences
place them in library books as markers
beneath the heavy binds
hidden away until the end of time.
maybe you should stop calling me “pale” and call me beautiful instead
or joyful
cause that word starts to crawl on my insect ridden skin
making its way up
and there is no way i can stop it.
i have tar painted words all over me
sketched out for everyone to see
deep cut, lingering
no bandaid can heal a mental block.
maybe stop calling me by my name
maybe stop referring to me as “white”
because i can be any color of the rainbow anytime
and maybe today i don’t wanna be white
i wanna be red, maroon, or mint green
and i am so sorry to those who were ever hurt by someone thinking their skin cells meant they were more important than someone else
at least today we realize the mistakes and blood spilt all over the battleground
from our ancestors in barns and farmhouses
but i don’t come from the folds of a vicious man
i come from a famine
that wiped out half of the population
something spite and greed could always do so easily
should i be ashamed that the sun didn’t shine harshly on the fields of our crop?
should i be ripped apart by the core because of a past generation
or haunted by the phantoms of the roots of a corrupt country?
and yet i will apologize on behalf of every sin of my “kind” and make your heart out of collapsed steel
and bankrupt policies
cause i love you.
you ain’t any less me than i am
and any less human than my skin color tells you.