Mama?
By Seun Ogunnaike
My mum cried black tears, when I had been racially victimised.
She’d forgotten about Africa, the motherland, or she wouldn’t have cried.
Black is my colour, all colours.
It’s red, purple and blue, yellow, pink and orange.
Black, is the sun in your eyes,
askew and reckless.
Black is the sun, the mighty god in the sky,
Black is the night sky.
Black is the rich coal from the underground.
Why do they hate such a beautiful colour?
Black brings Pain and Exasperation.
Misery and Exhaustion, Joy and Melancholy,
Happiness and Excitement
Mama, why are they staring at me funny? Why do they fear the darkness to my skin?
Why do they only see our snub noses and our big lips?
They laugh at me at class. They say dirt is on your face
Why can’t they see what I see? The rich colour, filled with effortless pride
Yet they continue to laugh at me and torment me.
Why don’t they see what I see,
my rich beautiful skin
My soft dark skin like the sun,
God made me special.
Lost forever in her black tears, my, mum continued to cry
I love my colour, so dark and rich.
The sun likes my skin; it shines in the shimmering sun.
They are blind, they only see my colour,
When will they be healed from their blindness?
Why do they hate my colour so much?
Why do they look at me with disgust?
I can see, because I don’t just see the colour.
Even though we are not the same,
they are still
My sisters and my brothers.
By
Seun Ogunnaike
