The Answer Is Deep In My Soul

I was delicate,
lest I am,
construed as unbecoming,
I never talked of my skin,
that subject,
being owned,
not by me,
even if,
I carried,
the skin around.

That Holly place,
where I go in,
and come out,
haloed,
or,
hollowed,
makes me,
a subject
of whim
and whip.

Then,
Du Bois,
oh,
that figure,
of,
astounding,
brilliance,
taught me,
a management,
of self and anger.

Instead,
of,
anger,
self-disparagement,
self-questioning,
count to seven,
or even seventy,
then you will,
see,
how gifted you are.

The animosity,
struggles,
closed doors,
half-smiles,
wicked,
back-stabs,
open up,
a veil of ignorance,
in which the left arm tied you in,
and a right arm will untie you from.

Against your skin,
a monolith,
of destruction,
was built,
if it were not for you,
a white flag,
would not be raised,
you are anchoring,
a cargo ship on which,
the flag flutters.

One thing,
that will,
never,
change,
nor,
be changed,
THE SOUL,
neither,
a flag nor a pole,
simply put: BE THE SOUL.

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