A Poem For My Son
Your skin doesn’t match mine.
It’s richer in melanin,
beautiful and brown.
The curls on your head?
They’re not “hard to tame,”
they’re a golden crown.
Your face soft, your lips full,
your almond eyes close gently at their seams.
Only a few more years until you really see the freedom of your brothers white skin, somehow deemed supreme.
Son, I will forever esteem you, raise you to not forget
You are worth far more than everything this world gives.
You were created as a God-image, royalty.
You are a King.
Photos by Megan Rose Photography in Keizer, OR
