Butterfly Dance This work is considered exceptional by our editorial staff.

June 27, 2010
Custom User Avatar
More by this author
Such lively color!
Such fluid flight!
You twirl with the grace of your namesake,
Your toes barely kiss the earth.
And I can only stand idly by,
Praying you will cast some light on me.

Your name is Diné, "The People."
I do not know what name you would have for me,
But in my own tongue I am called White—
A word which means colorless, cultureless,
Never mind that my eyes are almonds,
That my grandmother was Filipina;
Never mind that I turn copper in the summertime
Because somewhere way back I am Tsalagi.
No, never mind all that; it does not matter.
They still call me White.

You may think me ignorant.
It is true that I do not possess talent such as yours.
You have such a light step because of your heritage;
Your ancestors make you free.
I, however, am White—
Colorless, cultureless,
I have no ancient stories,
My people are lost to me.

But if I am truly white,
If I am blank like paper,
Then fill me up with yourself,
Write on me what you will.
Could you lend me a bit of your turquoise
And teach me how to dance—
Paint me over like an empty canvas
So maybe I could be beautiful, too?

Post a Comment

Be the first to comment on this article!

bRealTime banner ad on the left side
Site Feedback