One Color Under the Dust

Theme: Colorism

I am from Gaza, where skies fall,  

but hearts still rise.  

Where the dust of death sent by a missile doesn't care  

if your skin is dark or light  

it covers us all the same.

Here, we bleed one color.  

We mourn with one voice.  

In the face of fire,  

What survives is not skin, but spirit 

I was not raised to stand above, but beside.

We are shaped by struggle,  

not by skin.

So no one asks me who’s worth more.  

Ask me who still stands.  

I’ll show you my people- 

North, south, light, or dark,

We stand hand in hand.