White

Raindrops keep falling on my head.

Only my feet aren't too big for my bed.

The rain begins in my heart, and of course it starts to fall from the sky. A pity for everyone around me, but I find that it's quite therapeutic.

Besides, it's much more stressful trying to keep it all buckled in, trying to keep my emotions and, consequently, the weather in check. Sometimes I just want to scream, or cry, or both. But instead, I… well, to borrow a phrase from the students, 'let it all out'.

Refreshing.

Sometimes, when I'm out above the trees and sailing among the clouds, I think about the nature of the world.

Because of course, isn't nature the one thing I should know better than anyone else in the world? The weather goddess, with the chocolate skin and the hair as white and pure as newborn snow.

Isn't white supposed to be the color of all things innocent and good?

Ironic, isn't it?

That pure, snowy tresses grace the crown of one of the most wicked men I've ever met. No, Erik isn't wicked. He's just selfish. He thinks he knows everything, but in his heart he will always be a frightened little boy that doesn't understand how something like Auschwitz could be brought about.

Meanwhile, sinister, murky indigo curls cover the head of one of the purest souls on earth. Only a little child could match Kurt in innocence, trust, and absolute faith in whatever he chooses to believe in. This is a man who thinks he knows nothing, and yet has a heart that could unlock the greatest secrets in the world.

Nature.

And then here I am, with hair as white as the clouds I can create. It almost disgusts me, really. That I should bear the mark of beauty and innocence, when others are so much more deserving of it than myself.

It really is strange.

Beauty, I would like to think, is a gift from heaven, a gift that only ought to be given to those who are worthy of its' many glories. And ugliness, then, must be a curse, hurled only on those who have sunk so low as to be irretrievable.

But that's not how it works, unfortunately.

Because what did I do that makes me so high and deserving of this? I was a thief, I pretended to be a goddess… and even now, I'm angry and still a bit selfish. Yet I look in the mirror and see this shining face.

It can't be mine.

Perhaps it is a gift from the land. For America truly is a place of great beauty. You hear the song, you see the pictures, but you've never actually understood it until you've experienced it.

Spacious skies.

Amber waves of grain.

Purple mountain's majesty.

I had heard the song while I was living in Africa, and I always dreamed about such a magical place. It sounded like heaven on earth, and when I reached here, I found all my childish fantasies confirmed.

And then as I grew older, they were dashed.

Because although America is a gorgeous, it is full of people as ugly as sin.

I don't mean physically ugly; many of them are lovelier than I am. I mean an ugliness that is in their hearts, and in their souls, so that they are as black inside as used charcoal.

I look out at this country, and I see purple mountains and amber waves of grain, but I see murderers and rapists, thieves and adulterers.

They seem unaware of how privileged they are to live in this land.

I would know. I grew up with nothing, in the middle of the desert, fighting for survival every day of my life. These people grew up with television, fast food, and video games.

I had a savanna.

They had an urban jungle.

I suppose that's what leads me to my rather quaint philosophy that nothing should be taken for granted.

Least of all our beloved liberty.

Today is Independence Day.

And while I find that liberty being hindered today, I stand strong.

Though I see people trying to take my rights away, I will fight for them.

And soon enough, my patience will be rewarded, my beauty will not be only a physical mark, for I will find my place and bring peace and help to anyone who needs it.

The sun will break over this land free and clear…

America the Beautiful.