Dissecting the Rainbow
the fear of melancholy
Fill in the _____
Claiming the Color Mismatch
Dissecting the Rainbow
colors are what makes everything
beautiful.
they make them real
they excite every part of us
we are only observers
they do everything to us
without leaving a mark
they weave between the pointed rods and curved cones
but somehow you think you
have the intellect to do something to them
to kidnap them,
make them do everything for you
when our eyes send the small particles
bouncing back through the air
you send along a message in a bottle
with your own prescription
of ways they need to be fixed
you set up a hierarchy
a rainbow
with the combination of them all on top
without realizing the splendor of individual individuality
a rainbow
a symbol to the world of
no more God-made flooding,
but now there is a god-made wave
of white that is still drowning the world
we need a new rainbow,
a mosaic with all the shades of
the world, one that hugs
the globe and all we can see is the
simplicity of beauty
with the pot of gold
glistening from the
star in all of us
the fear of melancholy
Germanic name
Colonist skin
The language of genocide
Accent of an American Nazi
a mixing of everything I stand against
written and drawn across me
carved like a tree
where to belong
one foot in each but still
between two countries that never want to meet
again
the kidnapping of
my people
by
my people
how do I love
what I fear
and how do I live when
it means to fear all
fear of the disconnect with the Heart
fear of the strong bond with the Hand
fear that what I see in the looking glass
and what I hear, I will never
forgive my histories
which always left
bloodstains.
Fill in the _____
I pledge allegiance
to a flag which I do not know
I try
to see the reflective glass
I try
to see the blonde stripes
and blue stars
I try
to reach
to touch
but my Tongue holds me silent
and as I stare, she smiles
and she takes a step closer
I mirror and she reaches her hand
we touch
we blend
Am I still I?
Mubwisi fades fades into Muzungu
When the glass shatters
Am I still I?
and You and Me become one
Am I still I?
Or to emptiness do
I pledge allegiance
Claiming the Color Mismatch
I do not see color
not those words ascribed to people
who were labeled like animals
signifying an iceberg
so much behind the word
being pushed below the surface
I grew up in a land where
the beauty of nature was treasured
the way the sun broke through
the leaves
the tangy mango located at only the top of the tree
a village that took care of everyone selfish not being defined
because it was a birth-trait
I see shades of beauty around
me
the genius of divine creation
skin only a protective layer
created to block out the world
the inside, the soul
dazzles in the sunlight
like waves on a beach
ever-changing
this new land taught me differently
that I had to see color, that my
ethnicity would never be soluble
with my race
trusted classmates naming me Tarzan
trapping me in a cage
selling tickets to see the White African
because the outside will always diffuse
to the center
loved friends bruising me I thought
I would finally look like my country
I love what I see in the mirror
but America taught me that what
I saw meant I didn’t even deserve a hyphen
I was sewn into the body of Uganda
but I never felt like I needed to cover my pride of home
until I was cut out and set for transplant
every part of me wants to reject myself
but I realized the transplant never happened
I never gave consent to be removed
but now
I am placed between two Bodies
out for so long that going back
would risk infection
now there is a rotating hand
waiting for me
to remember my
name
and figure out how to survive
an America body filled with Ugandan blood
being comfortable with the scrapes and nosebleeds
realize that standing out is inevitable
and to stop chopping parts of me away for the comfortability
of the audience, and finally
write my signature on the
dotted line, and go to
sleep to wake up
a Ugandan-American
not belonging to any Body
