What is in me?

May 6

Written By Darrell Spearman

This glass cannot protect me

from the way the moon’s light strikes my black skin,

like a magic pen.

It’s twinkling fluorescence conjures an effervescence,

an overlay of moving particles.

My skin has turned into diamonds

for I have been spotlighted, with nowhere to hide—

its presence peering into me, knowing all

no dialogue needed, as it seems to know all of my contents

I’ve harbored all that remains unspoken.

I straighten my spine, as this sophisticated presence

challenges me to be my better self

to pick up the damn pen, and be honest

to stop hiding behind a screen,

scrolling for what feels like eternity—for that is

the wrong light to grace my skin

as dark blue as underwater

as deep as an ocean

as vast as this world

a stellar performance exists in a place you aren’t aware of

a space dipped in blue paint

this shimmering blue, in its glory,

a moment to tell my story to no one in particular,

or this imaginary audience, hovering over this white wall

the blink of candlelight revealing puzzled faces

a colorful sea

This way of being, this way of moving

was never meant to rebel in any way,

but a gift sent to ground through me

using me as a vessel,

the power of artistry braided into my being

to set me, and many of the others, free

Being chastised is what brewed a rebel in me

when they staggered my dancing feet—they were the same color as me

and so it stung all the same, left me strung—

When I move, I am untouchable

Too fast for the f word to grip my heart the way it did

the way it cut my skin, zig-zagging into my flesh

You know the word

The word I knew before I could connect to the sound of my name

Here I stand, on battleground—this Marley floor—

fighting no one but myself

as they watch, eyes intrigued

Who will win?

The one who knows he deserves to be free,

or the one who is too afraid to get past the gate-keepers,

afraid that they will viciously attack me at my attempt to leave

this instigating land behind?

He even fears what and who is beyond the gate,

its tall golden state

willing to grant me a clean slate

if only I would just take

Why can everyone accept your flaws but you?

The question looms over my head like an intrusive professor

That horrifying word I heard them say, crucial and cutting

Its impact on my being distilled through my sweat

as I dance across this marley floor,

shoes at the door

I push my obedient prop,

dancing as if my life depends on it

I only have thirty more minutes

before the lady behind the desk