My Black. A poem by Maya Ellen

Editor’s note: This poem is part an ongoing series in collaboration of The Sacramento Bee, Sol Collective and other community organizations called the “Community to Newsroom Pipeline.” To learn more or to contribute, email us at voices@sacbee.com.

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Color me midnight

Color me gold or honey

Color me clear if you must, if that means they will see

See us

See you

See me.

Color us midnight

Maybe then we will be able to rest

Without closed eyes laying in peace

We do not wish to be angels yet.

Color us midnight

We wake up to the noise, no space to just be.

Protesting with the gardens upon and inside our minds

With little room to be free.

Color us midnight

We dance under what is left of the moonlight like nobody is watching,

But we protect our flesh, protect our best like everyone is

Because everyone is.

They painted the stars with our blood

Color us midnight

Maybe then we will be able to rest.

We water gardens upon and inside our minds,

This is our living protest.

This story was originally published April 16, 2020 at 4:01 PM.