My Skin

Look at my Skin...
Skin that has been the bane of my existence since the day i was born
Born into a society where Jim Crow holds the law
predjudice is the boss
where being black is your loss
look at my skin..

See i don't remember...i don't remember the happy days
maybe coz my belly button hadn't healed yet,
and the stench of my mothers insides was my scent
and as it wore off, so did my solace
so did my hopes, my dreams, my peace
see i don't remember...

It is my skin that has been sold in chains
whipped insane
Scars that only tell a tale of pain
I am still a slave

I am in desperate search for freedom
My soul burns for freedom
my soul sings for freedom
I am still a slave

But it is my scars that make me strong
My bitterness that makes me weak
my pain that gives inspiration
my disillusionment that hinders my progression

So i shall bloom at dawn
when my seeds shall be sewn
planted in the soil as i await to be grown
and no matter what i shall not groan
It is my scars that make me strong

I am a rose
beautiful, delicate, passionate
I am a rose
don't mess with my thorns

Look at my skin
black...my black skin
Is'nt it beautiful....delicate
isn't it passionate

so come all you roses
join me all you beautiful roses
let us intertwine our thorns
and make a delicate garden
with the love we have for our skin
let us show the passion we have for freedom

KAVOSA ASSAVA