White

I wonder how it is to be white?

White as white is seen.

Pink lipped white,

Blonde blue white.

A mother of white,

Maybe a daughter of white.

I can’t imagine the world of white.

It is a tree to grow downwards,

A worm to crawl inwards,

For time to go backwards.

This power has yet to be found.

What is it to be white?

Is it right?

The power that has been yelled into my face,

Would I be great, white?

Loved and cherished everything would be Me.

I wonder

Really I do.

Not white that has whispered for the secret world of others.

Still I can not imagine how it would feel.

How does white feel?

Like cotton or maybe silk.

Does it smell lovely or sweet?

I know not.

Are they happy and do they ever ask the question I do?

That is what it must be to be white.

Unquestioned, undiminished.

That in itself is unfathomable.

How can white go about unlinked,

No wait that is what it must be to be white.

The need is the opposite.

I don’t understand how it is to be white

And really I don’t want to.

Not white in the sense of people

But the white privileged state of mind.

The very white that killed with their fear,

Hating with its ignorance.

For white is me.

A product created and mixed still I would kick it from my rainbow.

The idea of white.

I don’t hate white

I love it.

Truth be it I don’t understand how it is to be white

And really I don’t want to.