To My Best Friend: Some Words Of Advice

January 22, 2008
You hold hands.
Yours baby-powder white
his the sweet color of chocolate.
The contrast is obvious
but you donít notice it.
His brown eyes gaze into
your blue. You both smile.
Your father shakes his head,
disapprovingly. You hear his voice
ringing in your head:
ìHeís going nowhere in life.î
He wants to go to Harvard for Law.
Your mother hasnít talked to you since
you told her about him.
ìNo daughter of mine is gonna date a black boy,î
she says, pushing you out of her room,
slamming the door. You sit down and cry.
You love him so much, but your parents canít see the good.

You hold hands.
Yours baby-powder white
his the sweet color of chocolate.
People roll their eyes, tell you
itís socially unacceptable.
ìYour kids are going to have such a hard life,î
an old lady scowls at you.
You havenít even talked of kids.
Your friends canít see what you see in him.
You try explaining but they just donít get it.
His friends are the same way.
You both agree you donít need them anyway.
I tell you that you still have me. I tell you
that it doesnít matter what color you are.
Love has no color. I tell you that youíre breaking
the mold. Turning heads. Challenging the norm.
You look at the ground. We sit silent for a minute.
You pick your head up and look at me, a whisper
escaping your mouth ìThank you.î A single tear
rolls down your rose-colored cheek and you reach
up and hug me. ìYouíre the only one that understands.î
I wrap my arms around you.

You hold hands.
Yours baby-powder white,
his the color of sweet chocolate.
The contrast is obvious, but
you donít seem to notice.
Youíre audacious.
I couldnít do it. My cowardly
personality is only good for advice,
though I was always told that
actions speak louder than words.
I speak the words,
you do the actions.
If only we could combine both
and make them into one person,
whoíd fear nothing, even difference.
If only.
But like I say
and you show,
Love has no color.

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