I wish I didn’t have to reinvent myself
just to be seen.
That the world wasn’t so harsh,
so cruel,
that people carried their own insecurities
instead of setting them down
on my shoulders.

I wish my African parents had taught me:
you are enough.
That anyone who says otherwise
isn’t telling truth,
just sharing taste.

I wish I could hold negativity in my hands
without reshaping myself around it,
without carving away at who I am.

I wish we looked at the world differently
saw the beauty in our separate ways of seeing,
the miracle of arriving at different truths
about the same sky.

I wish we saw life as art,
and every person as the artist of their own canvas,
without ranking whose colors are better,
whose brushstrokes are worth more.

I wish…
but maybe wishing is just another way
of saying I already know
what could be.