| High Yellow Dreams
Imprisoned by this skin I am criticized for relating, but what am I, if not black? Palestine runs through these veins, like tidal waves Rushing through the valleys of my soul Indigenous chants sink their fingers into the brown curls Of my hair and massage the thoughts that plague my mind But when any other color is mentioned, it's disregarded Makes me hate the color of my birth Owning it never felt so hard I feel disowned Simply because I am not darker Not quite pale, but tanned isn't in the equation unless the sun has kiss my lips I am no longer a friend of the sun The wolf keeps me from her And so I keep away from darker dreams of brown and beige and Africa You tell me I can never know And so I am not part of it How can I even know? How can I ever work towards your freedom? How can I even identify? Trapped is an understatement There is no escaping You ask me why I would want to trade with such a place And then you talk of the beauty of it The wonder of it The sensuality of it And how my skin and blood has become diluted I am a diluting factor And it hurts |