i once got asked
“which color are you?”
i sat there, perplexed
not knowing what he meant

reading my face, i guess, he said
“each color is a personality type
for example, i’m red because i’m always mad
and as for him,” he said, pointing right at his friend
“well he, he’s blue, because he’s always sad”

i thought about this for a minute
well ok, i said, give me a sec
but all the moments i considered
were always multi-faceted

because when i was blue, i was red too
an authentic blend of lilac
when i was upset, i was stubborn too
a beautiful shade of shamrock

never was i solely one color
i was a spectrum, roygbiv
all the way from the r to the v

just like a palette
that belonged to a French painter standing outside the Eiffel Tower
i am all the colors in the sunrise
and all in the sunset
all the colors in the cherry blossoms that line the streets
and all in the luscious grass that rests beneath the tower
i am all the shades of blue in the Seine
and a reflection of the entire city

i said this to them
and just for a moment,
they stood, in awe
“wow that was beautiful,” said one, and the other agreed
they looked at each other and in unison they said
“she’s definitely an orange”

and so they went, galumphing back
mistaking beauty for futility




Esha is an avid reader and loves to write poetry and short fictional stories. Being an Indian girl brought up in the US, she likes to write about how her experiences are different from others’ and how stereotypes and racial differences are so prominent in today’s society.

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