Forgotten

We exist.

Not in the shape or form you’d prefer us to be, Pale skin, straight hair, and eyes as blue as the sea,

Too dark, too kinky, too uncontrollably free. Fear enraptures you when you realize our complexity.

Glistening in the sun, this melanin protects us, Not from UV rays, but the privilege shading you from the world’s reality.

A reality that is rooted in the beauty and torment of struggle. Struggles that make blessings that much sweeter and obstacles seemingly surmountable.

We exist.

Not to uplift your sense of supremacy, but rather to remind you of our shared humanity. Indebted to our common Creator who made us all in the most perfect of forms. Yet, you use His Majesty to justify your scorn.

So restrain your ego and recognize your finite existence in this world.

For when the end comes and we are forgotten. When flesh is gone, and organs rotten. When bones remain six feet under. Our bodies may undoubtedly look the same, but our legacies, our legacies will not be.