Sun Kissed Days

Sun Kissed Days

Tuesday, June 16, 2020

The Color Of My Blood


The shape of my eyes,
the sound of my voice,
the shade of my skin,
my sexuality.
The color of my blood
the same 
as yours.
If you saw the light in my eyes,
if you saw my mother's tears,
if you felt her fears,
grief engraved on her skin.
Would you have yanked me
like a weed from the
garden of life,
Would you have shattered
me in pieces
 leaving me
to bleed out in the dark.
Ideologies differ,
dreams unalike,
my diversity
makes me
unique,
beautiful,
majestic,
a beacon in the fiber
of humanity.
The shape of my eyes,
the sound of my voice,
the shade of my skin,
my sexuality.
The color of my blood
same as yours. 
 
 
I am re-posting this poem that I dedicated to the victims of the Pulse nightclub. I want to share it for Tuesday Pride. We must have a voice for all the voiceless. 

24 comments:

  1. I remember this poem and loved reading it again. All of our blood, our humanity, our struggles, our love, our tears, the same, yet people focus on the very diversity that makes this life so wonderful. Sigh. May we evolve more quickly than we have thus far!

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  2. Well done! A very heartfelt poem. The repetition works very well!

    Would you have yanked me

    like a weed from the
    garden of life,

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  3. Says it all, really. I like your use of repetition. Pertinent to so much that's happening at the moment.

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  4. Thank you for re-posting your powerful poem, Ayala. The repetition is so effective in building up the self-portrait and its nuances, like layers of paint. Diversity does make us unique, which is expressed beautifully in the ‘beacon in the fiber of humanity’, sharing the colour of blood.

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  5. I love the heart of it — it reads like a prayer or a chant, with its beautiful message. :-)

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  6. So beautifully written and so worth sharing once again!

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  7. What a wonderful use of repetition... it works so well and the subject of inclusion and the resistance against hate is so important.

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  8. We are indeed all of the same bloodline...the differences we use to divide are constructed, not real.

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  9. It cannot be said enough. We are one human family. A beautiful poem, Ayala.

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  10. Povverful poem!
    First the struggle, then the self-respect and dignity, pride in vvho you are, so strongly felt in your poem.
    And the repetition vvas a great vvay to drive in that diversity is richness, yet vve are the same too.

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  11. Good one Ayala. Still resonates through all these times.

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  12. It speaks to the pain of death alone, the brokenness of those who can't be there, and those who work diligently to try and not lose one soul. I'm so glad I read this today.

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