What manner of life is this
Who designed that word
Why call it modern
Why call it melanin

A life full of thorns
A life buried in hate
A life traded for money
A life drowning in blood

A word filled with tears and blood
A word filled with shadowed evil
A word filled with curse and cause
A word filled with pain and fear

They call it modern and new
Like a thing changed about it
Like it got better or worse
Like it now wears a mask.

Why give it a name in the 1st place
Why look a being in the eye
See same features and still
Go ahead to segregate

I wish the children’s children
Know no black or white
Know no hate or fear
But rather love endlessly.

—poem and photograph, Michael Odiah © 2017