She told me with shaky voice about OUR choice
wisdom-filled grey hair drooping to the floor,
no less, no more…
God tried three times before He got it right
White people were underdone, rare in a sense, and if you will
Black people, were overcooked, left in the oven a bit too long
Mexicans, with smooth brown glowing skin, came out just right
It came out just like that at the end of the night,
what she said made me smile
Now, we’re here with time to kill, for awhile
deciding, yes, to chew on the bitter thrill
we’re here for the ride, high and low tide,
Keeping my eyes peeled for what’s on the inside
which by the way is utterly classified
I thought grandma rude, but I felt proud,
nothing for or against anyone, yet I thought it out loud
It was the first time I felt good about being me
about how ‘they’ should just leave me alone for being me!
when I didn’t wish I was like the others
when my friend’s pretty blonde sister called me the N word
when I never raised my hand in class
when I was afraid of my own voice
when I hated what looked back in the mirror
still I combed my hair
when it didn’t matter if I took up the cruel world’s fight
crying life ain’t fair
like the song says, this kid was alright
fifty years later, today,
has it gotten worse or greater?
In the end, when this life is over,
It won’t matter because I’m no hater
my skin, like my brother’s,
looks and feels like the dirt from where we came, you know, the clay
dissolved to nothing, having lived a life looking the other way,
pretending, defending, our skin torn and hurt, yet unbending
despite a different name,
despite fortune or fame,
despite our flimsy claim
yet, unmolded, outside this fragile sheath,
a drab worn-out meat suit,
I’m a young buckaroo old coot knowing…
we’re all the same
Frank Marquez Writings 