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Cold as I C E
Cold as I C E
Here we stand—united, firm,
Tracing lines in the dust of time,
Between the ones who bore this land,
And those who came from distant climes.
Is your soul frozen, cold as ice,
A winter’s breath that knows no thaw?
I do not know why you cast me out,
Why my roots stir your fear and doubt,
But this I swear with blood and bone,
My hands bear scars, my sweat is stone,
I toil where no one dares to stand,
The weight of labor in my hands.
Yet still you hold your heart in frost,
A bitter chill that counts the cost.
Why keep me distant, out of sight?
Why shackle me with color’s blight?
Why do you cage the shade I wear,
As if the skin could strip me bare?
Does pigment veil the soul’s true flame,
Or stoke the fires of cruel disdain?
Is it hate, or fear’s cold grip,
That seals your heart with frozen lip?
Or is it burden, heavy, vast,
Dragging spirits down, steadfast?
I stand before you, voice aflame,
Seeking to melt the ice with name,
Truth and word, the only key,
To break the chains, set all men free.
Tell me, why must your heart be ice?
When all I crave is simple sight,
To be seen beyond the skin,
To be known for who dwells within.
Rolando Matias
