When We Were Colored

I…
I remember when we were colored.
Proud I was of this “African American” staring me in the face.
Cause see
no one could tell me
that even if this dark skin could travel many seas
I couldn’t sniff a whiff of this American dream.
My skin tone a mere distraction
stacked tall with affirmative action of pity and lost hope
Back then,
when none of these psychotic nurses could tell us
that we were only colored because of the curses.
And this is not just my story
it’s his-story
when we were colored
and our minds were locked down,
enslaved with some of the heaviest chains of emancipation
but ask a group of students who look like me
about the father of many nations,
and I guarantee you zero participation.
Cause we were colored
And when you’re colored the truth is blinded by reflections
visions of spiritual malnutrition
and pretend faiths that we are afraid to admit
still exist in us.
Because the truth of the matter is that many of us are still colored
And I have to say it has nothing to do with color,
but shades of old men and women rearing ugly heads from the grave
once more
to remind us of our worldly twins
who
refuse to stay drowned.
However the secret lies inside the depths of men’s hearts,
for these old men rise up because of our thirst to keep them there
in the past
when we were taught to reverence their forefathers
instead of our own tribes
when we were soldiers
when we were toddlers
back in the day…
when we were colored.