Souvenirs

If I were to twist my arm backward,

My little finger would land on a scar

That runs on my back

And not miss even by an inch because

I've traced it too many times,

Both in leisure and in schedule,

To not find it blind:

Not because it boosts my insecurity

But because it is a souvenir from the time

I stood up for myself and 

The elders couldn't digest it-

makes my eyes sparkle in pride;

If I were to uncover my legs,

I'd find small patches of dark 

On my knee caps and I smile

Because they carry the essence

Of a

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ll the adventures I had as a kid-

Adventures that cost me hospital visits at times

Yet, were crucial in shaping me;

A carved stone appears not out of blue, does it?

If I were to stand before a mirror,

Dark skin would meet my eyes

And not a skin tone where 

Blushes and dimples can steal the stage;

Yet, I remind myself to no let

Jealousy override me 

Because fairness lies in all skin tones

And my dark skin carries stories

Of all my summer trips and

Every day whips of this buzzing life

That I endure for the sake of my dreams.