Poetry: Puzzle

Poetry by Betty

No, the angels did not run out

Of paint when coloring my skin

Rectification is paramount

Since all my life I have been

Unique in my way, yet no misfit.

For my worth extends far beyond

What you’ve known, what you’ve seen.

And in my oneness, I belong

To the big picture of humanity.

Rich and heterogeneous.

You might call my angels clumsy

But to me, they were generous

To wrap me in a pattern

That only God could duplicate.

Singular piece of a big puzzle,

The space I occupy is adequate.