In a far off land I hear echoes
In Portuguese, Mandarin, and French
Women are draped in gold and red saris. Men tip their fedoras as they walk past them glistening in the sun.
Somewhere behind me there is disagreement. You are dark. Darker than midnight. Another voice makes it clear anything darker than toffee is abominable.
It is clear air here for everyone. The sky is in patches of powder blue and indigo.
Can you breath now when no one is stepping on your neck? No survival mode needed here.
Alabaster arms link around bronzed waists because this is how to greet and then say farewell.
It is all colors in my dreams. There are echoes in Swahili and Persian. Some of us wait for night so we can see. It is clear here only when the moon is high.
There is plenty of thread and just blend. Blend. Sew. Place together. Sew. Someone will not like all the pieces. In my dream it all fits. The pieces are not all the same color or shape. I made it work.