Black fades into black, nothing else
No void, no stain, no thing uglier
My mother says I came as a baby, black
And since, I haven’t and shan’t fade, for
Black is resistant to dirt, to stain,
Black may not always be beautiful
But black is valor, a hollow space
A heart of earth which shan’t be filled up
By anything or everything thrown at it
Black doesn’t succumb to pain
So I accept the joy of being black, for
Y’all choose the black of everything
The black of trousers, of shoes, of coal,
Of fish beaten in smoke, of nylons, of nail paints
I wonder then why white is said to be pure, beautiful,
Whilst black remains the colour of the uncanny
Black on black is scary, but sporting white is clean, refreshing
Yet, you hide your grey hair
Or repaint it black, and deceive yourself
That black is ugly, or somewhat no color at all
Poetics won’t teach you the beauty of black
Your ideals would, and soon, you’d learn
That death doesn’t become black
Death is pale, stale, the colour
Of a loved one’s scrunched up face
Death is the colour of memories of a hug
A hug with someone you won’t see again
Not black, not white, nor red
Evil is colorless, or maybe the color of pain
So much hurting you hope to forget
Black is home to me,
Alike, every color is a home to someone.










Photo by Seven Shooter on Unsplash