Colour Blinds: a poem about racism

 Is it the colour of your skin?
Is it the colour of mine?
Is it the colour of your skin
that I can take for a sign
that you are set to harm me
that reprisal’s in your head
that you don’t care to know me
you just know you want me dead?
What of the colour of my skin?
What of the colour of yours?
How can an outer covering
be the start of many wars?
Beneath the skin we’re just the same
we breath, we live, we feel,
how can an outer cover hide
another form of real?
Reality just in the head
is never what is true
and if we think our real is yours
we’ll never see that you
demand that you be listened to,
have needs greater than ours,
we’ll never pause to think that you
would abuse an armed cop’s powers.

I had to write this today in response to the news of yet another person being killed – unprovoked, in her own home – by ‘law enforcers’. I have been tearful since I read the item but I do find that writing can help me get out my anger, grief, frustration.

My thoughts and love go to everyone affected by such inhuman and inhumane acts.

Being creative is the mainstay of my life, and poetry, prose, and photography is where I express my deepest emotions. I also enjoy the challenge of design and create jewellery, fabric bags, and garments and home items in yarn. Diagnosed with ASD at the age of 68 after fifty years in and out of the mental health system, I now aim to explore and share my experiences over these years. Apart from blogs and short articles I'll share my life in my verse and images.

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