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if my eyes were blue...



as a child,

i longed to be blue-eyed.

with eyes like the ocean

or perhaps the sky above,

my life would be golden,

maybe at last i’d be loved.


so i wished and i wished,

on every birthday,

on every eyelash.

and i prayed my drawings would come true,

the ones i designed myself with eyes so blue.


as i whispered to myself:


“if my eyes were blue,

maybe they wouldn’t stare.


if my eyes were blue,

those haunting words

would no longer be

my nightmare:

“where are you really from?”


if my eyes were blue,

maybe i’d feel free.

maybe whenever i turned on the TV,

i’d see someone who looks like me.


if my eyes were blue,

maybe life would feel more fair,

and i wouldn’t have to feel

the wrath of everyone’s stare.

if my eyes were blue,

and my skin pale like snow,

maybe then, and only then,

i’d finally then know.


if my eyes were blue,

with golden hair like you,

maybe i’d look in the mirror

and see that i am beautiful, too.”


Editors: Joyce P.


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