Black: A poem by Vandana Saxena

Black is colour of the darkness, yet I fell for its depth,

For its unexplored horizons, strong aura, and sultry breath

It never chose a Friday, it never coloured a skin,

But the grief found it from nowhere and racism added it to sin,

Black is the colour of the power, I have fallen for its strength,

It shouts for itself, without saying it all at length

It never chose the occasion, it never found the anguish

but we didn’t allow it on auspicious and never wanted it to distinguish

Black is the colour of authority and I fell for its submissiveness

For its formal in nec kties and holding power in belts

It never chose a market and never chose a list

But the unlawful found it and wicked made it to its list.

Black is the colour of dense and I fell for its thicks

For its never-ending illusions and catching the courtesy in flicks

It never meant to be mailed, and didn’t ever colour the market

But the threat mailed it and trade convened it wicked

Black is the colour of substance I love for its no-good

It is beyond just itself, but usually misunderstood.