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POEM: My Curse

Updated: Dec 2, 2019

by SAMUEL HOLLOWAY - March 7, 2019

I’ve resented my skin as long as I can remember

Saw the pale faces around me.

Wishing to look like them.

Mold myself in their image.

They say God created us from clay

But the devil painted me.

People leave corner stores bloodied

Blues beat black bodies like drums to ride into battle

Boost themselves by killing my vibe

Since I was a child, I wished I was white

Blond hair, blue eyes.

A nose that crinkled, never flared

Hair that’s straight, not nappy

Eyes that saw ahead, not down.

Down at those that look like me.

Never talked like me

Yet walk the same gravel road

Now, I’m proud of my skin.

This dirt brown will stand against the golden sands of time

My skin will cross all lines and break all barriers

My skin is hope that will burn a fire the likes of which the sun has never reached

What becomes obscene will be picked by me and no one else

I choose to be selfish

All my life I’ve been worthless

So today I’m valuable

Right now I’m priceless

My skin is God.

It has seen all, touched all, and made all things

But no matter what my skin brings

I pray it gives hope.

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