Black Card

What is a card but a key to enter a world,

A world that is mine by blood, not by creed, but because I am the fruit of father’s seed,

A fruit that can only show half its flowers, a half which is too bright, whilst shrouded in darkness,

A darkness unpalatable to some whilst unfathomable to others,

A faux darkness guided by observance as much as teaching,

Why must my darkness be called into question, is it not too dark?

Is it not too black?

Am I not too black?

Am I black?

Identity should be, must be, celebrated loudly

But what if my celebration causes discomfort?

Must I quiet my pride?

Am I placating the wrong side?

I go to swipe my card...

Denied.