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.