Skin Deep
My skin is a
Patchwork of ancestry,
And I can only imagine
My forefathers
Weaving each
Ebony-dipped fiber
Together,
Debating with God
On which shade is better,
They thread the needle
With such accuracy
A melanin so finely stitched
You can’t see
The soul beneath.
I can see
God’s hands on my exterior
Painting stretch marks
Hoping I’ll never be inferior
To the force of nature.
He made this shell voluptuous
He called it His home,
A temple of testimony
That I am His most sun-kissed throne.
About the author: My name is Tatenda Murigo, I am an 18 year old Zimbabwean art activist who expresses my concerns and issues regarding the society and the larger African community through poetry. I am an emerging artist in Africa, using my work to inspire and empower her fellow youth generation to a level of consciousness and action.
