It’s Never Black and White [new poem]
I see no white, by which
I’m meaning 255 times 3.
I see no black, portrayed as
zero thrice in swatchy RGB.
For those are colours which
would not look right on skin.
(In any case, such outerness
is shallow, surface, paper-thin).
I see a lot of shades of pink
(which goes to black & blue
if knocked about & bruised)
and many different hues
of lighter than the ebony
which lies upon the neck
of the guitar I lovesome use
(and many others in-between
but never lemon, cobalt, gold,
or navy, jade or bottle green!).
So here I see the bottom line
that common sense can glean:
Every single human creature
can be perfectly described
as being “a person of colour”,
a phrase not only meant for
those who are not “white”
(for “white’s” a colour too!)
and everyone is tinted in
some lovely way by grand
design of our Creator who
has made us different not
to fuel our hate but so we
ogle at all others with delight!
When all the posturing and
cant are dropped concerning
all the brouhaha on skin
(although I love external
variations of all shades),
I’m only really interested
in what you have within.
So, black and white, though
seeming to be opposites
where colour is concerned,
should not be made into a
grand divide twixt you and me
or we will only prove the point
we haven’t nearly learned to
radiate our love, nor to be free.
© Alan Morrison, 2020
The Naked Troubadour 