It is the sound of silence
It is the color of my skin
It was stripped away from my ancestors
It is the reason I am judged
It does not define or contain me
It is the reason I stand strong
It is not a crutch to lean on
Its statistics I ignore
It’s my favorite of all the colors
It comes in many shades
Its beauty uncontained
Its history is still unfolding
It cannot and will not be ignored
It is not a reflection of my heart
Its past torment can’t be restored
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem