A Scoop of My Mind (Not Finished)

women of the CORE

did you realize when you said your sun-like skin
would get ruined if you played in the mud too much?
was it because of its color?
you never seemed to care about the chocolate ice cream you bought from the store.
and i guess it never occurred to you that it was my color.
did you think that my skin looked better in red and that the only future of my life was in a deathbed?
it never bothered you when i came home dressed in bullet holes and roots growing out of my back and a line across my neck.
"one like the tree" you said, but did i ever tell you i wasn't bulletproof?
it's so easy for you to assume that my hands are weapons and my limbs are ready to be taken apart and assembled into your idea of black.
you never cared to ask about the layers and layers of oil stained hair and burnt skin to look something like white.
women of color come together and lather themselves in bleach.
we restore our encyclopedia and create it into a world of what you want us to be
how you want us to speak.
we keep our hands in our pockets so you can clutch your beloved purse.
you start off with "i'm not being racist" but it usually means you are.
but we are told to ignore it.
light it on fire.
burn it.
deep down in melanin.
deep down to earth's core.
cotton will always be our past-
enemies will always be our present-
but what is our future?
are we supposed to just forget or not care?
but there is no future if we are replaced with trees-
there is no future if our skin looks good in gasoline-
there is no future if we come home with mud on our knees,
thorns sticking in our hands,
and our backs carrying a piece of rope we call a spine.
the forest is jealous,
but why should she be?
we get burned into ashes also.
we are called women of color,
but why not women of the core?
we crafted the equator,
we cloth in night,
and our souls are brighter than your sunshine will ever be.
we are not just black.
we are not targets.
we are not ugly.
we are not ghetto.
we are women who created earth's shadow,
who scooped a piece of night,
who threw our souls to the sky,
and maybe it's time for you to realize that.

a/n: first poem in this poetry book. i started with this one because it means so much to me. all of my poems do. i'm nervous, lol. i've posted a lot of these but never finished. hope you kind of at least hopefully enjoy it.
-jmak 🌻