Ralph informed us of his bestowed invisibility. Zora told the world, "How It Feels to be Colored Me." But like Paul's caged bird that would croon in captivity And against its bars with its wings would beat and ram, I want to tell the world just how colored I am. I am the color of RED To my fire in the dawning east, a worshipper will bow his head. The tint of the southern soil from which I sprang The hue of the Native American with whom my forbears danced and sang The crimson of my Father's blood Deeper and richer than even the mighty Nile's muuud. I am the color of GOLD Older than histories and mysteries untold. With my radiance, monuments men have built to honor Hoping and praying, blessings they'd garner. With my luster, their bodies they drape and adorn To possess me, they plunder and make whole nations forlorn. I am the color of BLUE. The only rhythm to a song the abused and downtrodden knew. The only cadence to a syncopated beat Made especially for tired, callused, and worn out feet. Through me, men have testified and recounted their stories Of past wounds and wrongs and...hmph!... future glories! I am the color of BLACK The sole shade of the prism no pigment falls lack The lovely ebony and jet of the secret night Through which my ancestors to freedom took fearful flight. Yet, cloaked in my essence, it is dictated to wail and mourn, But out of my awesome darkness, CREATION was born! Well....Margaret entitled her tale a JUBILEE. Alex likened his account unto the ROOTS of a tree. But like Claude who toured us through HIS "Promised Land, And for those with fragile sensibilities cared not a [email protected]! I want to tell the world JUST HOW COLORED I AM!