I’m not white….

I visited a friend today, from three decades back,

And I remember my mum telling me when I was small...

That his brother fought with a machine gun in a Middle Eastern War,

That was about oil, money and white racial power and no goodness atall,

When he was only 7, but I should never mention it again, for sure….

And I never did - ‘til now!

I’m sure I’m not white.

I visited India, where my Colonialist Great Grandparents worked,

I looked for the grave of my Great Aunt Violet!

They say she was in love with a local boy, with a pure heart

...She died of a broken heart in a white frock with black ringlets

She was not brown, quite

But her heart lays there, in the dirt

I am Violet - And I'm not white

Gold, her sister, brought back India in her heart, with recipes and life long friends.

Infused with the language and sounds of Eastern tones,

Embedded cultural pieces which will never go!

And when I land there, and sit in the cow pat brown homes

...with the smells of the spices, rich sounds and Orange Eastern Sun

I reach home

I am Gold - I'm definitely not white.

My Scottish Grandfather I never got the pleasure to meet.

He was white and thin, in Airforce Navy dungarees. In the corner

Inventing specialist oxygen tanks and top secret equipment honing.

He loved the deep blue sea and the sky, A loner,

He would often sail or fly away, and so sadly he left for the big blue sky away,

...when my mum was 7 - She was blue...

I’m Airforce Navy and must be Sky blue too - I'm not white

I remember my Jewish Grandad and how serious he was,

His skin was yellow green brown!

Always with such a stern brow,

But sometimes he would smile, as he looked back at me so...

Proudly showing off his lupins of all colours in a row.

Multicoloured Pride - I am Multicoloured!

I am yellow green brown and I'm not white

He saw too much as a young boy, and seemed forever

Oh so very sad, although An accomplished man.

Inventing pieces for Rolls Royce Engines and Planes.

Left behind his family, his life and his name

...he escaped from Austria, on the Train

Got stripped bare there - He was not white enough -

I am definitely not white!

I rejected my privilege, my whiteness...

For the guy who bought me the Golden Heart necklace,

The gypsy friend I made. My own mother forbade,

Wasn't a good fit for our upper middle class place.

This construct did not sit well in my mind, nor soul space!

It makes me think of ‘Violet’ now

I am Violet and I’m not white..

I faced the white walls and white jackets

The endless Dr’s meetings and popping of white pills

My poor dear mother, with misdiagnosed ills.

The images and mistreatment still gives me the chills

The love was never too much to fill

But she left me still,

I am NOT white!

The paradox of the Red fire, that engulfed her!

Ultimately they found the true diagnosis

The final piece for her to leave behind her demise,

Her freedom ticket of transformation surprise

That seemed to finally quiet my dear Mummy’s eyes

...But was too late for the fire striked...

I am Fire Red - I'm not white.

I bounced from Club to Club in the Dark Midnight Sky

For many a Year!

Often the only white person there...

Without a concern, a few glances, often felt bare.

It was the rhythm of the hip hop beat, the soul dance we all shared

for we danced years in one heart there where

I’m not White - I am Dark Midnight.

I escaped to the Far East...

Bathed in Sacred Rivers, Searched Holy Mountains

Walked Round them with Hindus, Muslims, Buddhists, Jains

Where Sadhus shared my cooking flames.

Looking for the secrets, searching for my very own soul bared that I’d lain.

Wearing Ochre Orange, I changed my Name...

I’m Ochre Orange - I’m not white

In Lhasa

I met a tribe of all colours and all nations proud.

Came together to meet and create, where time stopped

Life in tracks from all corners of the world!

A three month pilgrimage one long moment of the sacred

...Mount Kailash with us as one Rainbow Warrior,

I am Rainbow - I am so not White.

Fathered by an African American, and estranged,

My children knew not their source.

I taught them of the heavenly father - of course

And did the best I could, with little remorse.

Neither black, nor white, but their souls

Are all gold...

I'm not white too - I’m Gold!

Ten years after, a meeting for a family christmas

Over cornbread, collard greens and pumpkin pie.

Met with disbelief, humour, and love running high

Amongst loads of sisters, uncles and cousins shy

And me bouncing around dancing and singing

"I’m black and I’m proud"

I'm definitely not white!

Not P.C. Unable to call my children anything, but everything?

Not Coloured, nor mixed race, nor black - nor white!

They have the Red Indian Cherokee Fire, The African-American Soul true,

The Scottish Tartan, Irish-French Malaise, The Austrian Jew Sewn through,

Even related to a Danish King - The Indian Spirit too?

When I was small I wanted a family of all colours, and so I do

...I'm not White - I’m multicoloured too!

These days I bounce, from idea to idea,

Sitting in the twilight

With my Sufi friends philosophising the universal plight,

Of humanity and how we can claim the right

For justice for every man's higher plan and sight!

In the truth of every man's struggle, from darkness to light

...I’m not white!

I'm not white, What colour aren’t you?

My race is multicoloured,

My experience is too!

My soul is golden light

...And Yours is too