I recall momma tellin' me that

at birth I was almost rejected cause

of the paleness of my skin

 

little did she know i was God's canvas

soon to become a master piece

worth more than the Mona Lisa

or a pack of dogs sittin' at a table

playin poker

 

I was born with flesh of a white male

hair like what wannabes call Indian hair

when i learned my great grandmother

was a Squaw, i found joy in being a

part of that

 

then I learned the struggles of color

I had no true understanding of what being

a black child meant

 

I had only been a sketching an outline     

of an image waitin to be filled in

for what God and life

wanted me to be