Skin of gold and brown
My mother would tell me that my skin was beautiful
The perfect shade of brown to paint the world in
I rejoiced as any child would when the world needed your color
Then I heard it, how my skin was dirty and too dark for colors
Too dark to be seen in pictures and why were my eyes so large
Too dark to be a part of hues that knew nothing of brown and gold
I tried to wash it off, to change my hue to red and silver
Something more accepting that hues that did not sparkle
And yet it made me sad, they did not understand colors
They did not see that gold was rich with history and
Brown was of the earth and world and all around
How could they be so blind to color me in hues of uncertainty
Yes, I did not color with the same shades as them
But I was still alive and well, still singing in the rain
Still dancing just, the same to a different beat
I have tried to color my skin with hues to please you
Tried to run the sun down to the coast and beyond
To capture a glimpse of golden and brown in the best light
Colors do not mix as we want them to in the wild
They mix as they please and we watch them, excited and at ease
So why should I ever be concerned with your distaste in my shade
You could try to color me with your hues and pastels of saturation
But it will still wash off like all the rest in the rain, no hue holds me
No shade will ever shine as great as my own in the twilight hour
Jona Nightingale 