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Author Topic: the feel of fleece [sestina]  (Read 1852 times)
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essence_3
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« on: September 29, 2006, 11:06:12 AM »

the feel of fleece[/u]

it never ceases, this eternal dawn
where all around us superficial grey
belies the tender essence of a skin
with any blend of melanin, not white
as fear abides an onset of the dusk
these lowly days lie draped in fretful black

is not the light of death a somewhat black
contrasted with the innocence of dawn
that’s lost as we succumb slowly to dusk
thru transformation best described as grey
when contemplated solely by the white
folklore embraced in history’s wrinkled skin

transparent grows what lives beneath skin
and true this is whether it’s seen as black
or looked upon with favor— being white
humanity, at some point, has to dawn
on individuals — every shade of grey
such revelation surely comes at dusk

perhaps it is this power of the dusk
holding a pure perception of our skin
that causes man to pencil us like grey
stick figures when our statuesque & black
physiques are shown to rise just like the dawn
maybe it seems to threaten one who’s white

as known by some oppression has been white
at times we toiled from sunrise until dusk
only to do the same again at dawn
bearing whipsaw-like lashes on the skin
for wearing such a daring hide as black
when wisdom would have shielded us in grey

those days, the skies were total slates of grey
yet clouds and cotton fields were always white
and we, oh we, remained steadfastly black
not knowing if we might survive ‘til dusk
so difficult it was to shield the skin—
a task which rose within us every dawn

a black man’s world is never simply grey
the dawn of this dilemma’s clever white
unfolded flag at dusk shall save our skin

© 2006 Carol Elizabeth Owens
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