Ivory Coast

by E. T. Scyffore

My love is fair.
Tangled hair she knows not,
For her world has pleasantries.
In her eyes there are tears &am the hatred
And stares which she cannot comprehend.
Neither does she realize the struggle associated
With my black skin:
Yet she possesses compassion wherein she remains my friend.

Her heart beats with the rhythm of a tribal African drum.
A warrior to the plights of life's discontentments...
Yet she finds no offense.
Her love has traveled great distance, and has endured
Many catastrophes.
Now we are one: clothed in ecstasy.

Tender moments are redefined be the entwinement of foreign skin.
We intermingle like the keys of a well tuned piano
Our love thundering with the echo of passion found
In spite of deafening fear.
My love is fair.
Yet she finds solace here.

Differentiation has found meaning -- making it possible for
Two cultures to kiss. Understanding has reached the pinnacle
Of primal reign. Meanwhile bigotry has been dismissed.
It's hatred returning to the core from whence it originated --
A hangman's noose!
Now my love, who is fair, is "FREE" to embrace
My black skin.

Ivory Coast by E. T. Scyffore

© Copyright 1998. All rights reserved. No portion of this work may be duplicated or copied without the expressed written consent of the author.

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