By Armilet Balla
The deafening silence embraces me in my spacious room,
Wallowing in comforting hands of confidence,
I stand in my mirror and stared at the black rose
Which grew in a full bloom.
I reach for the black rose and trace every corner of its fortitude
It’s too pretty that it cannot be shunned by the society
It’s so alluring that it attracts a hive of honeybees.
Its color is so rare and always stand superior among others.
But behind this wave of thoughts,
this black rose was once belittled in the history.
I pushed myself on the floor
and travelled back to how the pathetic days started.
An image of a sixteen-year-old lass reflected on the mirror:
fat, unfair skin, chapped lips, asymmetrical curves,
clumpy hair, big eyes, and Bunny teeth
She was a rose that was so thorny and was called ugly.
She once stayed in the shadows of all attractive roses
Tall stature, with aspen hoists, flat, toned belly, and slender legs
these were all appreciated
2,400 years ago when the Greeks set what they wanted.
Unreachable, unrealistic, there were mad flaws
But this rose emerged proudly introducing itself:
She is Black Rose, she is not the standard you’ll looking for,
She sprang from the past and she’s here to reject your Golden Ratio
She once undermined herself and almost wanted to die under the scorching sun
She felt the burning acid of reality with the insults you have thrown towards her,
Now that she recovered from the dark,
She’s here to enlighten your narrow mind.’
The history cannot repeat itself
For this rose has learned to appreciate the uniqueness it beholds
Its power lies on its features that are uncommon
You cannot bury her again because she’s already fully armored.
Every curve you’ll see is a product of its own upbringing
Tracing the tiger stripes, they tell you her story
The dark spots on her face
States her survival during the dark days.
Now, better listen if you are one among others
Whose ideas were all like the ancient people I knew
For the world has modernized
And our demand for beauty should be contextualized.
A lighting seems to strike me, and I let my tears pour like a fountain.
I’m overwhelmed with so much joy as the world caress me.
Lady, I tell you, your beauty lies from within.
I am Black rose and I have beauty with my color that is rare to many.
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