Color Theory
Being black is hard.
Quite obvious to the general observer-
At least you’d think

You see our shades of red staining the pavement
As the last things we say stain the brains and hearts of those
Just like us

You hear our tired cries for change
After having black meet red, white and blue each time we go down,
Standing together, faces against the world no matter what
You know why? Cuz we’ll always be “Family”

You’ll always be the one to take us in,
shower us with golden rays of love,life
and cultural richness

That is until prisms of light cast our spectrums across the gold embroidery
Vibrant reds, oranges, greens, yellows, blues, violets
Holding hands with the togetherness of being black.

But what do you do when one hand lets go in disgust?
Feel sorry for your self?
Question if you’re good enough for your own people?
Choose between love and race?

Queernes is posed as a deformity, a curse among many, something blatantly wrong.
As if the years of fighting for space in a closed off world only deserve to be respected by few.
We saw the same shades of red my family spilled to move us forward
Allowing the blues of isolation, anhedonia and rejection to consume us
While the bright white light of a world with no blight teases us from above

Feeling united by independency
Broken by pride

And when those arrays of colors reflecting off that glass prism meet black,
You pull out shades of red, white, and blue,
The colors drowning out the blackness-
Making you “Not black enugh”

So now i'm stuck in social limbo,
Forced to choose between race and love for community.
So many strings attatched, becoming tangled in the fears of rejection

It’s time to cut ties
Time to leave the prism by the windowsill against the wall’s black paint
And float through the void unteathered,
Until I find my rock.

And maybe then, i’ll build a house of my own
© Rynne