to him, it is more than a color,
it is an identity,
a mantra,
a way of life,
a culture and a belief.
It guides his actions
and determines his friends,
chooses the place of his home,
the nature if his church
and the power of his convictions.
It is the cross he bears
and the flag he waves,
the box he checks
and the first word used to describe him;
more important than gender
or place or date of birth,
almost taking the place of a name.
He would prefer to be called
a man —
no preceding adjectives —
but differentiating descriptors are a
societal requirement,
so, he clings to it and waits.
Black is his creed,
his motivation and his history,
a thing he could no more shed
than his skin.


1 Comment

Filed under Poetry, Poetry - Prompts

One response to “Black

  1. Happy Easter, Mark.
    A thought-provoking poem, Mark.

Some of what I write is true, some is fiction; most is merely possibility.

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