“Diaspora”

When I asked her, she told me her name was Diaspora

Happily Ever After Rapture; Nothing ratchet

Nor pompous, nor too complex;

Simply, an Exodus scattered

A cross, a truth of fiction

Judged according to her pigment by a color-blind jury

Who slovenly swear her blues weren’t black enough.

Denied her black card?

My GOD.

“The ignorance,” she says to me.

I agreed. “Indeed.”

My heart feels so deplored! I can’t ignore.

I object!

On what grounds?

Scientific phenonema and phenomenal evidence!

Sustained.

How dare they question such defined lines

And choose to draw nothing but conclusions

By way of their untrained brains?

Do they not know of color constancy?

Are these not the same who told us

That black and blueberry dress was coconut cream and gold?

Or how about the fact that peach, beige and sepia,

Chestnut, maroon, and russet,

Sandy, Tan, Peru, Khaki, Manhattan,

Cocoa, Dark Chocolate and Molasses are thought of as black,

Yet those from Caucasus

Are born eggshell and alabaster,

Who turn rosy when their shy, ashamed, or enjoying laughter

Go crimson under the sun when they burn

Turn blue with bruises, are found cold or drowned

And go pale as they hit the veil

Are thought of as white?

How is that right??

Crayola cometh over! We need a witness!

This acrylic passion bleeds

For all their misdeeds and misunderstandings

While asking in the key of life,

“Forgive them Father for…they know not what…they do—”

Despite the fact that ignorance of the law does not present

Diplomatic Immunity of any kind.

This, my closing statement, your honor.

The plaintiff and the defendant,

Must change seats in order for the finding of guilty to be right.

This case? It’s not hers.

But since its been appended?

Consider this new definition of her name,

A new amendment:

Across

She bares

The Universe.

Innocent.

Exile her not.