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Color Blind
and I remember the day, were you three or four?
when, weary of watching the geckos do pushups
you climbed the porch steps
and Adama lifted you, all sunbright and mango-faced
onto her ample lap
cradled you in her damp, brown arms
told you how heavy you were
and how, when you were so-so small
she would take you for walks
to the market sometimes
carrying you, wrapped in tie-dyed cotton
snugly against her strong, hot back
and I remember how, in her laughter
Adama almost dropped you when
with eyes as wide and blue
as the African sky
you asked, "Was I black then?"
How we all laughed!
but I also remember it was the hope
in your small, earnest voice
that touched me with a strange pride
filled me with helplessness
and nearly broke my heart
By Joan Robertson
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