I am white.
You are also white.
But you have a palette of other colors I do not have.
We both come from Mother Africa but you have the pretty genes that document your claim. Mine have been washed away over decades, centuries, travels and time.
Danish butter rolls through our veins, you and me, and you have Norwegian, making you more of a Viking than I am.
Your skin is the color of honey… well made bread… fine sand, ground to softness by tides controlled by the moon.
My skin is old now but when I was younger, my skin was taut and inflexible. Now it gives you something to tease me with.
You were born blue. Your eyes were black like the depths of an underworld cave, and sparkling like an ancient fire. You turned pink within moments after your entrance and later, you began to take on the hues of an Egyptian Queen.
We are Kickapoo. We are also Cherokee, you a little more than I, making you braver, more stealthy and able to lean into the wind.
We are French, and English, and maybe a wee Irish, and German, too. There are many colors within us, shapes and sizes.
In our bones, we have the ability to break chains, sail tall ships, write ghazals of love, wipe tears off the face of defeat, leap in the name of victory, count stars and follow comets.
We are connected, like a fragile feather to a wing.
We are the threads of a tapestry and we are here to protect the colors.
Thank you for reading..........