A Dark-Skinned Damsel.

1930:

Born black, beautiful with beady black eyes.

Broad nose, curly black hair, wide smile, white teeth.

She was dark-skinned.

Her skin-

the colour of running, yummy chocolate-

was betrothed to the Sun.

Her physique-

resplendent in all attires

as though she was carved,

every intricate detail of her.

She dared not shrink

for her stature would betray her.

She dared not cower

for her aura exuded valor.

But what she did dare

which she ought not to have,

was to dare disdain her dark skin.

2030: Now

she is old

with a granddaughter of her own.

She whispers to her

every now and then:

“You are beautiful.”

She marvels

that beauty is no longer a cult-

with a fixed complexion,

hair texture or curvature.

Beauty resides in every contour

of the human flesh; beauty

makes its home in the

nest of kind souls. Beauty

is no longer a face,

a look, or complexion.

Beauty is you and I

in our splendour.

Now, her granddaughter

will live

as she was made to live-

as a beautiful dark-skinned damsel

born black

as strong as the obsidian rock.

Idowu’s Poem