Maryline Roux

Salt … Pepper … Blond(e)…

Jesus is laughing in his little corner of Paradise
when He hears voices of men and women
fighting over
the complexion of his skin.

Just look at the sole of my feet —he said—
his words bouncing from one cloud to the next
—they are no color;
because this skin never comes into contact with light.

So, what’s the fuss?

Melanin is not in my palms or your palms.
Melanin is not in the sole of my feet or your feet.
Close your eyes and see all the steps you took
and where your feet have been.
Make a fist with your hands and feel all that your hands have touched.

I walked on the surface of the Sea of Galilée to test Peter’s Faith.
The fierce wind, the breath of God left him doubtful —and—he hesitated.

I can save you from the storms if you believe in me, not because I’m the color of salt or pepper.
It’s only a perception of your own importance.
The hues of your humility have far more preeminence.
Look at the Sky and how the Moon and the Sun share the day and the night—they yield to one another—
day after day,
night after night.

We have no excuses—none.
Nature has shown us every day,
from the beginning of time
a multitude of colors, shapes, and textures.
They blend with no prestance, enhancing
the beauty of their neighbors
that love prevails.

I watch you all coloring my hair blond, hazelnut or pitch black
and I laugh even more.
I murmur ‘salt, pepper, blond’
and I rejoice at the sight of my multitudes.

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