Unkept

Growing up, I trained my hand to be steady.

My hair to be tamed,

My words to be fluent

My hand shook

When I wrote my own name,

It sounded like an immigrant,

Unwelcomed in the land of the free

I was chased out of the house,

For wearing a tank top and jeans,

It was unacceptable

for a lady like me,

To be part of society 

Brown hid under me,

And I pulled down my sleeves 

Blended the smudges of my black and white ancestors 

So I could resonate with the masses

Taunted by the imposter,

Found solace in a disaster

Being in the land of the free,

Where there was no place for me

Reviews

[Ada]

All people color have stories of marginalization in common...a little choppy at times but reads like a journal entry, since you did a nice job of conveying your feelings.

[avaya]

i agree, and i hope that one day, we will live in a world where stories of marginalization are history. thank you for the review!

[Carlos Lorenzo Estrada]

These words really spoke and resonated with me. Even now in my mid 50's I still feel a stranger to the land I was born in. Excellent piece of poetry Avaya.

[avaya]

I'm glad to see this resonated with you as well, thank you so much for the review!