I am hardly ever disheartened, medium strands of black hair tossed upon the shoulder as
the sun blazes overhead – it’s not something that hasn’t happened before; why must one
react to assumptions purely based on ignorance?
Shall I concoct a story? A heartbreaking tale about escalation of racism, dark side of the
moon, ribbons of dreams, memory and summers; added to this potent mix is mankind’s
refusal to mend its ways, on the hillside, in the daisies, underneath the cedar tree, too
many hopes are obliterated. Believe, everyone have their own mountains to climb, their
own obstacles to overcome.
I don’t take credit nor blame for deeds done by people throughout the span of decades,
you cannot predict who I am according to the color of my skin. No, I do not weep at the
world – I am too busy sharpening my oyster knife.
Photo credits: “Nothing at all,” by Loui Jover Painting, Pinterest
Lisa hosts at dVerse and invites us to write inspired by Zora Neale Hurston from“How does it feel to be Colored Me,” in World Tomorrow (1928) Come
join us! 💝
Posted for Prosery: Finding Ms. Zora Neale Hurston @dVerse Poets Pub