Lack of Color?
I am the night sky,
all-consuming and heavy.
I am the oil in your car,
the rubber of your tires,
essential and necessary for motion.
I am the dreadlocks of a black mother,
the worn hands of a black father home from work,
the ink of the Founding Father's pen,
the dilated pupils of a hopeful black boy,
Obama's black hair before we wore him grey.
I am the very bedrock on which any great nation is built.
I am not the absence of color,
for I have absorbed them all.
I am not jealous of the other colors,
although I am not in the rainbow.
I am not jealous of fire,
for no matter, how bright the flames glow,
the fire will die and ashes to ashes it will go.
I am the shadow that follows you all your life,
surely following in step right behind you.
I am the slender stripes on the back of the sleek tiger,
the stripes on the zebra,
I am the primed, and powerful panther,
ready to pounce.
Creased, Midnight, Obsidian, Patent Leather shoes
the moonwalking penny loafers of a King.
I am the revolver hidden at your bedside
and the bible beside it.
The blackened cancerous lung of a smoker,
and the x-ray used to diagnose it.
BB King's Lucille, Johnny Cash's guitar.
I am the finest caviar.
I am not at all jealous of the light,
for it too has its time.
I am not jealous of the light,
because those who fear my darkness find comfort in me in the night time.