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Why is it that you cannot see, I am what God made me to be?
The colors of my skin, its dusky tinge; are all what God gave me!
You look at me, you see my dark skin tone; you see dusk settling on bronze.
You forget that behind that visage is a person that dusky skin does ensconce.
A person prone to deep hurt, you break her a little every time you ridicule.
For the spoken word has a power to hurt that trust me is not minuscule.
So I implore you to pay some heed, what’s in my mind, please so read –
Judge me not by my skin’s color; rather judge me by my character.
Why is it that when you look at me, you see not the person that I can be
You want me to be the person that you desire, do not allow me to be what I aspire
You look at my body with repugnance; you judge my waist for its ample girth
You forget, I have feelings, I am the same woman who to your children, gave birth
Your sarcasm cleaves a hurt that is deep, many nights I have cried myself to sleep
I questioned God whether it was me who was wrong? I asked him to make me strong.
God still has not answered me but I do wish that you could see –
Judge me not by my poundage; rather judge me by my courage.
First published here.
Image via Pixabay
A recruiter by profession (founder- Placements, a manpower search firm) & a writer by heart. A
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