My son came back from school today
with confusion and doubt gracing his face
He said, 'Mum my teacher is dull, nay? '
The mother's instinct said, 'Change his school Grace'
But this ignorant word brought itself, 'Why? '
He felt his teacher had taught a lie
'He 'learnt' us colours today.'
'The word is 'taught' son. Taught! '
'He showed us colours white, black, and grey
but this I know that I am black
and white is the skin of Sir Clark
but the colour he called black
was not like my skin at all
and the one he called white, Mother
never looked like that of Sir Clark
Yet Headmistress awarded him best teacher'
A mother as I am
I didn't want to be called dull too
But I guess I am a victim also
of this world's scrutnous classifications
Yet it is true that
throughout my days in school
I never met a colour which ever so
looked like the skin of God's higher creation, us
So I had to drop this colour fuss
'Son, no colour can describe us
less the ones we radiate from within.
Poet's Notes about The Poem
Comments about this poem (Colour Blind? by Akutor Kafui Akutor )
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