Do Not

Don’t make me mask my pain
Act like life’s okay
Or give me reason to apologize for who I am

I wear the shackles and chains of my ancestors as precious heirlooms
Their wounds; I wear on my feet
Never treading lightly
Cautiously moving
I bask in the freedom they once hoped for

Don’t make me mask my beauty!
Contrite for my color
In despair for my thighs
Overly self-conscious for my wide back side

I carry the hips
From which nations were born
Full lips beget kisses
Or to release venom and scorn
This voice sounds off
Like trumpets and horns
How dare you attempt to silence me?

Don’t make me mask anything!
My joy…my pain…my beauty…my essence
My past…my future…my present

I stand before you unconditional
And unapologetic in this vessel designed fearfully by God

Who am I to cover his master piece?