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.