Boxes

Started writing this over the Christmas and finished it this morning :)

It was really weird actually, the evening when I decided I was gonna write on this concept, I was doing some youtube poetry watching. After watching for like 40 minutes, I clicked on one vid and was like okay, after this one I musttt go and write my poem. And oh the irony, the poem I started watching was based on the same concept as my unborn poem. It was so bizarre.
I went on with the poem anyway, but I'm thinking, unintentionally, it will now have elements of the poem I watched in it. Never mind...
(It's consciously a typical 'im black(and asian) and proud/them and us' kind of poem. My views to an extent but highly exaggerated. Cheeky bit o' feminism in there too. And Christianism? :/ that doesn't exist but you know...)

Boxes.

In some respects, we are nothing but lettering and numbers on various pieces of paper and cards.
From birth certificates to passports to drivers' licenses to the forms we fill in every single time any single things happens.
Same questions.
Name. Date of birth. Gender. Race. Race.
(Although that won't be taken into account at all in the processing of this form)
Please tick the box which applies to you
Tick. The. Box.
Tick. The. Box.
How dare you try to squeeze me and my heritage into one tiny box?
Mixed: white and black.
Mixed: white and asian.
Mixed: other.
Mixed: other. Is that all I can tick to represent what I am?
The rivers that ran riot through the souls of my ancestors cannot and will not be contained by your box
The Gongola river where they washed their clothes and washed their souls and were born anew
Mass gatherings at the Ganges to soak their far from sullenly coloured saris
And give their young freedom to splash and wade as they pleased
Your box cannot and will not define me
The contours of my countries nor those of my corpus do not course in straight, angular lines, they will not fit
In fact, all of your boxes fail in their attempts to imprison me within their categories and subcategories
My female form will not be fettered
The ebbs and flos of she, the bump when life begins inside of me are not lines and right angles, they are curvaceous and round
Like the sun and the moon
Naturally in tune with nature and the natural

In actual fact I refuse to fill your forms and be filed away

Take me at face value

Look at my face and evaluate,

cos when you look into my eyes, you'll see more than could ever be imagined on a piece of paper or an electronic checkbox

Listen to my voice and let the decibles of my laughter ripple through your bones and then you;ll begin to know who. I. am.

Don't need to be packed in boxes and put in storage on the shelves of society, standing idly by as worthless as my ancestors were once said to be. I will be seen AND heard.

Four walls won't suppress me.

I'll jump out of the box, spread my wings and fly

Nothing to hide

Even better I'll soar on the wings of the Most High

And yes, I'm a Christian but that's not to say that I can be defined in a cube of stereotypes

I'm not "happy clappy" or a "bible basher" or "boring" or "restrained by the rules and regulations of my religion."

You need to unfurl the lines of this convenient little box you've put me in and gaze at the cross upon which my Saviour hung, when He personified love and became the sacrifice.

Perfection slain for my sake. And yours.

So take me and yourself out of the box that society has put you in, define yourself in Christ, look at you as you are seen through His eyes, cling to the cross, don't allow this four sided mathematical form to mould you or form you, oppress you or cause you to conform to the ways of this world.

Renew your mind, look to Christ, in Him you'll find peace of mind, while eternity awaits.