I met someone,
with the same bond and blood as mine.
Of a different kin to which my progeny permeates not.
Of a divergent skin color her mortality thus blend.
Blessed with a smile that could set viscera ablaze.
A blonde ponytail angels would give all to have.
Though feminine, her eyes held no gaze of effete.
He skin smoother than the oil that ran down the hair of Saul.
She called unto me and like and obedient army of one, I enlist as her loyal prisoner.
But she is white…
Little of such thought had I put into consideration,
having absolute apathy for racism in my 12 years a slave in London.
But the racism of her race held on to it’s inapathy for my skin color.
The piquant taste that lingered in my taste buds when I asked for her hand in marriage,
only to be told by her Jim crowist of a father, my race was a critical case to gaze at.
I tried to solve the maze of my race.
For though our skin colour differs, do we not all bleed red?
Or does the oxygen we inhale focus more on the color of the nose it is about to dive into?
And though spoilt by the worldly cravings for caramel and confectioneries,
are our teeth not created as a white steel enamel
Though we had made a vow to stand tall amidst the tides of life,
and to dig up the exhilaration of purpose and passion none of Europe had ever seen.
My betrothed lily was captured by the hidden soldiers of racism.
With a shattered heart, all I know is I met someone,
who was snatched from me because I am black…
OLALEYE SAMUEL. A
APATHY AND RACISM
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