Identity Confusion

By Taraatua

 

The pattern that engraves my fingertips,

shades of brown

and thick features

once ventured beyond the horizon

into the unknown.

My history reaches the freckled night sky,

the angry clouds cry

and oceans drown

yet my ancestors stand strong.

 

The crash of blood against waves,

my veins keep me afloat.

The spirit my people save,

and in me,

my people live.

 

Fingertips scarred

and covered in ink

a mosaic of eclectic colours,

I camouflage and adapt.

Bright lights

and familiar skyscrapers,

I only dream of seeing the stars.

My ancestors cry

and history drowns,

but I myself stand strong.

 

The crash of blood against waves,

my veins keep me afloat.

By the spirit,

I am saved,

and in the spirit,

my people rest.

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