TheLioness Poets Page
The Bluest Eye
At 7 a twin cotton sheet can become anything
Swinging from her head it became acceptance
The essence of American beauty flowing down her back
Lacking the kinks and coils of ethnicity
The complexities of being stared at or bombarded with constant questions
How long does it take to do?
Or
Can I touch it?
No, now it was lustrous golden strands that she could run her hands through effortlessly
It could blow in the wind easily
And mamma wouldn't have to braid it up
The comb wouldn't get stuck
And she could be free to swim or run until she sweat
Her yellow tresses plastered to her head
As long as she had that sheet on her bed she could pretend not to spend all day Saturday at the beauty shop to press and curl
Like a million other black girls
Because in this world she was not right unless she was white alabaster skin, blue eyes, and Rapunzel locks to toss over her shoulder
And as she grows older her true beauty will escape her
Self love plundered under a simple white sheet
Written by TheLioness