It’s not the side-long glances or hesitancy just as they walk past.
It’s not the white girls looking back at me from magazines through the glass.
It’s not the light swept in darkness, the chocolate that lingers too long.
It’s not the spice mixed in with fabric, the stains that feel so wrong.
No, it’s not that.
It’s the names that can’t be pronounced. It’s the sighs before they try.
It’s the halo placed on my head: the genius that never asks why.
It’s the body that’s trapped forever, the mind that must be freed.
It’s the whispers just as I enter. It’s the facts that they believe.
Superb stuff Angury
Very thoughtful provoking.
Are you Asian yourself?, he wondered idly..
Thanks – is it that obvious? 😉
The feelings d scribed are very real.
Very well put, describing day to day experience.😆
I am itsmeagain from BCF.
Great writing Angury.😃