Her Melanin, Her Skin
To Her,
I hope this book finds you.
foreword
I was thirteen years old when I wrote my first poem. I remember the hype and simple joy that it created in me. I rushed into the living room and read it out loud. When I finished, my brother laughed at me and said that it was the "most horrible" poem he had ever heard, but my mom took me aside, kissed my forehead, and told me that I would be a great poet and writer one day. She then took my faulty poem and put it in her photo album.
Some months ago, my student sent me his short story. It was a superb story, with colourful imagery and beautiful similes. I saw myself in him, the same young passionate kid who tried eagerly to do good but always feared it would not be enough. I had a conversation with him, and I told him the exact thing my mom told me some years ago. I sowed a seed of faith, hoping that the seed will grow and become a sequoia one day. It was then, I truly realised the power of words, and I decided to write and complete this poetry collection.
When I first started writing this poetry collection, I feared deeply that my emotions would not give way to the impact this book intended to have on you. It took me a while to overcome that fear, to make a decision and to start the process. During the process of writing Her Melanin, Her Skin, I realised that we humans are incredibly flawed and we try earnestly to see the flaws of others while hiding our own. I realised that loving a person truly is not a feeling but a decision. It is a decision to accept the other person with whatever flaws they have, whatever mistakes they had made, and whatever path they take. I realised that loving is a process, and every process takes time. It requires energy, communication, and patience.
It took me months to bring to life everything that had happened. Even though I had to change some names and events, I stayed true to the story, to myself, and to you as the reader. I believe that all of us have a story, but many of us do not dare to share it. I hope that my story connects to yours and becomes an inspiration for you to write your own.
chapter 1: we
Me,
We,
The only way
We can
Be.
chapter 2: visible
A seagull in the sky,
A grey dog in the corner of the street,
A little boy on his bicycle,
A pigeon on the edge of my balcony,
A Cuban cigar,
With its dark brown style
And its blue smoke,
Visible.
A broken heart,
Not visible.
Me, myself, and I,
Visible.
chapter 3: miracle
She told me not to tell you,
I told her that I will.
She tore my heart to pieces,
It’s a miracle standing still.
She was mine and I was hers,
No boundaries between us.
We laughed, we talked, we smiled.
I remember it as it was.
A wave came crashing down,
It destroyed everything.
She told me not to tell you
The lonely nights that I sing.