400 Shades of Brown

Brown is not synonymous with dirt
The brown bird’s song can awaken forests
Whilst the brown soil forces pine trees to exert
The bouquet’s beauty is not formed in the hands of the florist
But rather in brown hands with cracked skin that traces back four centuries
Skin that sailed across oceans and watched other brown bodies drown
Skin that continued to gleam in cotton white farms in front of its enemies
Nearby, brown hands raise the master’s infants and iron the missus’ nightgown
These brown hands exist at the root of the brown family tree
Along the branches, brown bodies hang commemorative of their mothers’ unwilling wombs
The brown boys are birthed into anguish and at the brown branch are set free
Decades pass and the brown tree still remembers the brown limbs
They’ll tell you the green leaf is only brown when rotten
But remember autumn leaves are beautiful