The color of me

Is it the color of my blood that bleeds red that makes me who I am ?

Is it the white of my bones that cry pain as I age?

The color of my broken heart in the black of night?

Or my skin that is perceived as priviledged to which I feel non ?

Or the color the policeman sees as criminal as he tries to arrest my mixed son?

Is it the color of my newborn child so rosey and pink ?

Or the Brown autumn leaf falling.

Silver twinkling star in the night sky

Ocean blue on that happy day in the sun.

Or was it the color of my tear -streaked cheek at the death of my mum

The color of nostalgia at a sunset orange and purple

Green grass cut on a summers day.

Red wine memories with friends.

Or the rainbow that was promised so magical in the sky.

Why do we focus on our skin that is pigmented?

When life is everything and all that is color.

I am all of these and non of them as through life i pass.

One day I will return to the dust so brown.