My aura is black.
Black because they tried to singe me with deeds,
Black like the sooty soil that nurtures her seeds.
Black because before they knew who I was,
When I was given no choice or even some gauze
Black like the bird that sings to be free
Black because my memories haunt me

Black like the sheep who’s breaking chains.
Black like the hole that’s swallowing pain.
Black like the smoke twirling up through the sky
Black like the panther and her silent battle cry
Black like the ash that softens the earth
Black because now she knows her worth

Black like THAT little dress, brilliant;
the one that makes every woman feel resilient.
Black like the lace of her wings
Black in the sky that midnight brings
Black like the velvet in her gentle coos
Black like silk skin that into she grew

So now instead of green, red, or indigo
My aura is black
Black like obsidian
Black like pearls
Black like geodes
Black because my shadows healed it so.