“They’re so white” they chatted
They weren’t talking about skin color
They were talking about
A sense of something missing
Some people just lack spice
The type of spice that rubs off
Of other cultures/ethnicities
And dusts us with their rich pollen
Spice is what the forests
And deserts and oceans shed
It penetrates and changes us
It feeds us and strengthens us
Spice seeps out of the wounds
Of hardships and traumas
Spice oozes out of broken hearts
And is the language of our ancestors
Spice comes from books
Science, fantasy, art, poetry…
That stretches the imagination
And fills our hearts with wonder
The more spice one has
The more one is able to love
The broader the perspective
The deeper and more gratifying the life
Spice is organic
Connecting us to all life
A rich, hearty stew
Not a bland pablum
Spice threatens the egoic bubble
Of safety, sameness, and superiority
Money cannot buy spice
So the spiceless buy power
Their love for purity
Has them committing impure acts
With children and saving fetuses
Spicy women scare them
Spiceless people are also spineless
Fearful of diversity and inclusiveness
“My one religion, my one language”
They build walls and concentration camps
But, spicy people will keep singing
We are the salt of this Earth
Together we are a wondrous symphony
That the spiceless can’t hear.
072825 bjb
barb j beyers 