If my skin were blue
would the difference frighten you?
Would you treat me strangely?
Gaze at me as if I were from Mars?
And, if I spoke with a lisp or blemish,
a slight accent, as if I were a foreigner. What then?
Would you act politely, make me special,
put me on a pedestal, make me your showcase idol?
Put me on TV like some celebrity or clown;
teach me tricks, have me repeat your mockeries?
We no longer know who we are,
wherein we’ve been thrown,
where we’re going to,
from what land we came from; and, mostly
we’ve forgotten what it means
to be blue
in a blue world.
Forgetting history is a terrible thing. Who will teach us
to be blue again?
Maybe we should begin by singing:
………… “I sing of the beauty of blueness:
of the sea that is blue,
of the sky cerulean,
of the blue-sparked stars at night,
of the blue smooth flesh of my sweet love’s kiss and midnight shadings;
the folds, resolve to the blue-black measure of her curved light’s breaking…”
– Steven Craig Hickman ©2015 Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author is strictly prohibited.