Charcoal! I hear them call me.
But unlike the coal, I’ve got beauty within.
Black, that’s just the color of my skin.
Cut me first, to know the color I will bleed.
I am black and am proud.
I’d stand out in a crowd.

Call me a walnut!
Liken my skin to its cover.
But my content is whiter,
Than what its shell covers.

Shadow! Another nomenclature I bear.
To my true friend am compared.
I answer, when I hear the name called.
For I do understand the metaphor.

But why don’t you,
Compare me to the ebony tree.
Its beauty like the moonless night.
For this skin glows.
Like the sea under a full moon

Think what you can.
Because you can’t think beyond you.
Call me what you can.
But don’t call me Beauty.
For beauty does not run beneath the skin.
No! Its skin deep.

Written by: Kehinde Fatai
Edited by: Kukogho Iruesiri Samson

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  1. Abdulkadir Alfa

     /  August 20, 2013

    A good one.



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