Grandma, did you think to work before selling your gold? Or did you assume your worth Was only at home? Did you want a better life that could be, Or was there no other option you could see? Did you choose to play the card Or was it forced out of your hand? What would you have done If you had no backup plan? Was it the freedom of a dream, Or the fright of a nightmare? If you weren’t born with gold, what power did you hold? If you didn’t nod along to your husband’s old Ideas of your place & space you could take? Where did you feel safe? They say old is gold, but maybe gold is an old system of power that still has its hold But gold resists wear how women resist abuse, It’s shine can’t be lost, only covered in misuse Invest in yourself & Your value grows stronger. You’re not a temporary Bloom of a flower. My skin shines gold, Black eyes aren’t cold, They sparkle bold, & I won’t be told or sold that beauty is defined by the ones who mold Their power to a whip, and tighten their grip On their hold of those they push below. Gold like the color my skin glows, Gold like the power they hold. Gold like the jewelry she sold Twenty-two shades of gold with too many contexts to unfold Is it too heavy to hold? But it’s weight is something You can’t deny. You can try, But our foremothers testify To fly despite its weight and because it shines light, On the chains on their necks flashing bright as they fight. Even on your darkest night when you lose sight of your fight, You’re standing on their shoulders, closer to the sunlight. -Samirah Shri
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About MeMy name is Samirah Shri. I write poetry especially for "bad" Asian daughters, but also for anyone who feels rejected within their communities. My poems guide you along my personal journey of rejection, healing, and ultimately re-connection. |