A Moment of Myself #1
My skin is olives. It glows in sunlight and shines in darkness.
My skin is not yours. It does not do me justice.
My skin leaves me undefined. It does me no wrong.
I dance inside of it.
A Moment Of Myself #2
My eyes are boring.
My mother had green eyes. Irish through and through.
Mine had to be brown.
A brown so mundane and lifeless, that I wonder if they really do reflect
Who I am inside.
In a world full of blues, greens, hazels and grays,
It just makes sense that mine were not.
A Moment of Myself #3
I used to fight my hair. Armed with brush and blow dryer,
I desperately wanted to shed the genes I had been given.
The frizz and curls, the knots and waves, I wanted them destroyed.
My mother remembered to pray that my brother would have straight hair.
She told me she forgot to pray for me.
A Moment of Myself # 4
I have curves.
There was a time I did everything to erase them.
But women should not look like little boys.
And so I wear them boldly.