Anna Russell
What’s in a colour that which we call man,
By any other shade would be as sweet?
Is it not too quick to judge at a glance,
For roots of her past hide deep below trees?
Hark! Thy neighbor seeks to label my tale.
Permit me to comprehend my story,
Before you tell it, me thinks a fair choice.
After all, a colour has many shades.
Black is brown; black is beige; black is freckled;
Divided, yet retaining unity.
Undefined, ever changing dynamics:
Black is whoever black chooses to be.
Sweet as yellow corn or fried plantain, black:
Beauty embodied as any other.
