My Color

“Stick with your own color”
Said the angry black man on the train
Peeking over my shoulder at the photo of me and my Caucasian lover on my phone

My own color?
Aren’t we all just different shades of the same color
Lets break it down
My mother is white
Her grey eyes sparkle with tears because she feels all the pain in the world bottled up in her big heart
Beware she will hug you
She will feed you
And before she ever meets you
She will love you

Is she my color?
After all she is my mother

My father is a black man from Brooklyn
He preaches rock and roll and encourages you to follow your dreams
He hasn’t let a brain injury slow him down
He has an inner strength balanced with his cool Jamaican roots
He will find the silver lining and rub it til its gold

Is he my color?
Well he is my father

No
I am not white
I am not black
I am a piece of every person in my life
They mix in me
They blend so perfectly
They breathe color into my lungs through their compassion and strength

So thank you to the angry black man on the train
I will take your advice
Lucky for me everyone is my color