Black Blood – A Poem By Matthew Blaise


A white man once asked me: why are you black?

I shrugged, hid the detest of the hate he spat under

my unceasing laughter, stood still, and sent my

eyeballs into his eyes so even when he shuts them

he could still see me.

I answered:

My melanin filled skin comes with an unfathomed

stubbornness, that whenever I bathe the surface

with bleached oil, I end up harming my soul yet not

becoming white.


My skin is rooted from melanin blood, whenever a

fresh wound opens, thick black pigments find their

way out.

The melanin found me worthy; gave me wings to fly

like a bird freed from a dusty cage.

It sprouts my colour on every tree, bearing fruits

that sing songs like a nightingale.

It found me worthy that it wears me permanently

like an armour plating; gives me a metal hat to

shade my head from thorny words.

I might be a victim of non privilege,

with a black face, placing me inferior to some worlds.

But the melanin found me worthy…

Who am I to say no?


Matthew Blaise is a young poet who dreams of butterflies,

and writes to emancipate himself through poetry.

When he is not checking out doing charity, his mind wanders through the universe in search of beauty and meaning.

His poems have been published in print and online,

he currently resides in Lagos.

  (January 2018)

Leave a Reply