Patterns

I'm neither Welsh nor Indian...

I'm a bit of Welsh and a bit of Indian

but I'm neither of them.

I'm a bit of Spanish and Mexican but I am also partly Chinese.

I'm Polish, I'm Polish a lot.

But I'm not Polish at all.

I'm very Scandinavian,

partly from the Middle East,

free soul of Native American,

and Russian, Russian beast.

African nose says a lot about Kongo and Uganda.

Eyebrows are rather dark from Pakistan or Palestine...

My Chilenos are crying over there.

My Iranian brothers live in fear.

There are some starving kids over in Kashmir.

Ukrainian sisters still bury their brothers.

Kurdish mothers in ruins give their children cuddles.

I like polka dots, and Scottish tartan.

I love Portuguese Azulejo , and the French Lace,

Indonesian batik and West African Ankara prints...

Why do you clench your fists?

What are you fighting for?

What is that inappropriate

if I am also the human in this world.

How does your favourite tea become English,

and where does your coffee come from?

You prefer cotton above wool and black clothes seem elegant,

but the black body doesn't feel as relevant.

The colours of the world are me and you.

The patterns of this world are me and you.

The nature of this world belongs to us.

But don't get too excited, its beauty is not for mass.

The Freedom should be free for all of us,

not only for those who are free.

Let me be free in the world of patterns and colours of my dreams.

Let me stand with my brothers and sisters in an equal line.

There is really no difference,

as we were born we will all die.