Dear brown girl,
whose mother had you stay out of the sun ‘before you get any darker’,
and angrily scraped the sand from your head and yanked the saltwater through your
and gave you a tight rubber cap so you never again felt the sea on your scalp.
You, brown girl, who were
told to cover up your wobbly belly with a t-shirt,
told that your thighs are too big and your ass is too flat and your hips too wide and your boobs too small
You, brown girl who grabs your breasts and lifts them up to where you think they belong,
whose stretch marks write a journey across your stomach,
who frowns as you twist and turn in the mirror.
I am for
I shine for your shoulders.
I beam just to see your freckles.
My waves thunder and roar, calling you
and I send my longtails to write you a message in the clouds.
I have laid out my grass carpet for your bare feet.
And streaked the sky with gold to celebrate your magic.
Do not shrink into the shade.