To my dark sister-

It does not befit-
The ancestors who went through
Ocean and lands,
Sweat and toil,
Blood and sacrifice,
To look down the pigment,
You have been endowed,
And utter the words-
I do not like it.

It does not befit,
The mother who went through,
vigorous nine months,
Housing a young you,
Within her 120 pounds,
While earning her coins,
With menial jobs,
To look down your skin,
Wishing it wasn’t yours.

It does not befit,
The creator- who fashioned you,
Body and soul;
A creation with genes,
Only you have been granted;
A beauty to stand out
Against the universe’s background,
To look down your skin,
Saying- black isn’t pretty.

It doesn’t befit
Your state of mind.
To wish you were something,
Other than what you are.

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