What is a rainbow without all of its colors?
I see the colors of everyone’s rainbow,
But not my own.
Others have light blue, ruby red, and even white.
But my colors are out of sight.
Where is my fully colored rainbow?
Who is a person without all of their colors?
Without their language, their music, their food, or their clothing?
All of these elements overflow from their melting pot.
While I must pretend my scraps are fulfilling.
Who decided that the rainbow is made of only seven colors?
What if I want one billion, one million, or even one, single color?
Who decided such limitations?
Such pigeonholes,
Where we drown in own river of life.
My colors are drowned in the red, white, and blue sea.
No way to escape from the fifty stars and the thirteen colonies.
No way to escape from the chains of misery.
My rainbow is just Black.
Not Black as the obsidian rock
Not Black as the lucky black cat
Not Black as the midnight heavens.
But BLACK as a black eye
BLACK as the oil in the ocean
BLACK as the Black Plague.
What may save me is my name-
The roots that separate me from the Anglo-Saxon tongue.
My mother has led me to the Motherland.
But I am still a lost puzzle piece.
My rainbow is missing the colors of my country.
The two bands of emerald green that enclose the virtuous white.
These colors of this country I wish I knew.
These colors I discovered far too late.
And their native tongue I yearn to appreciate.
Their colors once tarnished by the Union Jack’s crown,
Yet the Motherland of the Motherland
Affirmed their freedom over the iron hand.
The Motherland of the Motherland
This nation that conquered the European few.
Twice, they were victorious
For defeating the green, white, and red boot.
The Motherland of the Motherland,
Nurtures the green, yellow, and red.
As other nations adopt the colors of their reign.
Where my ancestors could not stay.
For they were sold to their graves.
They were uprooted from the Motherland’s embrace.
So I ask again
As if you could know,
Where is my fully colored rainbow?
