ADINA JEREMIAH

Dark Sparkle Beneath Ivory Waves

In a sea of white faces,
My Black skin shines like the glimmer of a Tahitian pearl,
Small, yet enticing.

Amidst this ocean of conformity,
I sit, waiting for one of the faces of foam to notice me.
To want me.
To see beyond the surface, and embrace the beauty of my difference.

Looking out to their hands above for acceptance,
To realize I can be better than what they think,
That I am just as good as the white pearls before me.
But as I look on, the lonelier I get.
With every attempt to cloak myself in the beige sand or the light crystalline glass,
My darkness persists beneath the guise.

As I gaze back upon the sea of faces, each one a reflection of the society that surrounds me,
an ache settles in my chest.
A growing sense of isolation wraps around me like an invisible shroud.
Overwhelmingly, it dawns on me,
That the very hands I am praying for, seeking solace and acceptance,
Are the hands that, knowingly or unknowingly,
Cast me into the shadow of this desolate place.

They are the architects of my isolation, the sculptors of my confinement.
But I am trapped in the ranking of my beauty, unable to get out.
Stuck wedged between the earth,
Confined to their narrow perceptions.

Oppressed to the depths of the sea,
I've realized that down here,
I've grown accustomed to existing alongside the discarded.
I've grown to know this dreary white place as home.

To my Tahitian sisters,
Amidst the tumultuous waves of judgment,
A choice remains—
Is it better to be loved by someone who treats you like nothing,
Or to be alone,
Navigating the currents of self-discovery,
Rising above the tide,
And forging our own path, unbound by the sea’s expectations.