An Ode To The Black Crayon

I met your scribble in my coloring book long before I even knew your nature

Watched you highlight and confiscate with the same rhythm.

Although I enjoying using the array of shades found in a carton of Crayola.

It was your deep rich pigment that made my Betty Boops come alive.

Always there to fix my flaws.

Black crayon you turned mistakes into magic long before David Copperfield

And because of you, I felt safer in a chalk art room than I did in a room full of strangers.

Gave me permission to live in my make-believe until I was able to accept my reality.

Black crayon you were made for the mainstage stage but played background to my Basquiats.

Still too often I would break you into pieces.

Pressing you down with gripped fingers in order to get each picture just right.

It's funny how the most reliable ones often get overused.

Not recognizing that the gift was in your possibilities never your perfection.

Now that I'm older I realize how tired you must be. Often described as the absence of color, I see it's because you gave yours all away.

No amount of scotch tape could fix it.

I'm sorry that I never said thank you.

Never celebrated your boldness or your brilliance.

Never gave your midnight masterpieces the refrigerator time they deserved.

Instead, we label you as evil in aggressive. Forgive those that say you're too dark to shine. Pushes your talent to the back of the classroom. It's shame some fear what they do not understand but it's not your job to convince them.

You are more than just some marks on a preschooler's papers.

More than some toddlers writing utensils or chewing toys.

You are power in a little girl's hands.

Lending your influence to her style and confidence.

Reminding women that it's okay to be a boss and a beauty.

That it's okay to be the anchor in your community when resources start to drift.

And it's okay to even break!

To know that the strong friend sometimes because the week one.

And it's okay to take risks.

To splatter your tint all across this white canvas,

and know that you,

and I,

and her,

We were all created to be art.