If she could, she would choose
to be the color of Yellow cosmos, French lavender,
Texas paintbrush (or a Shasta daisy at the very
least) : Anything but the color of pots
& kettles! Which she is. Which is when
a chaperone, who also happens
to be her Mother, rebuts: But Kenya,
you are also the color of Night,
whose beauty cannot even be contained
by Earth, nor expanding galaxies, wandering
exquisitely as the thoughts of God. The color
of Infinity, if it had one; of Eternity,
if it ever paused to be measured. My daughter,
you are the dream where God made Earth's first
black volcanic beaches, whose undulating soot
would birth cosmos and lavender and paintbrush,
but whose first bloom was you: a hue
so divine and heavy, no lesser flower
could bear it.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem