I am black, so my white count should be awfully low.
Now, that would make some sense in a black in white world.
But the world is both black and white and red and blue
And some odd unseen colors. These are but a few.
There’s advantage to living with hair tightly curled
When follicular freedom is not apropos.
I’m concerned with my white count. My reds are ok.
They have no will to sickle nor stand for my race.
White ones keep law and order, while reds give and take
In their visits to other ones. There’s a handshake
That supports our survival in this temporal space.
White ones deal with infection. It must be their way.
Invasion and infection are similar terms.
Both are born out of fear perceived to be outside
One’s ordained sense of selfhood, for better or worse.
Yet, sometimes it’s a good thing; sometimes it’s a curse.
Our most cellular judgments cannot be denied.
They will always reflect what the true heart confirms.