Spectrum of Identity

I wear it each and every day, forever on my back,

Turning olive to deep brown in the sun, melanin is something I don’t lack.

The origin of my roots has always been unclear,

“You definitely get it from your dad’s side, my dear.”

Never took much notice until pointed out by school peers,

I’m comfortable in my brown skin and ignored their sneers.

The colour of my iris appears sometimes almost black,

Looking through the same lenses as my ancestors did hundreds of years back.

How was my grandfather’s skin almost as dark as the night sky?

My relatives respond with a shrug and I’m left wondering why.

Wherever my family tree is rooted, I’m proud to be in the skin I am,

I’ll strive to find the answers for when my children question their mam.

A jigsaw of my identity that will come together piece by piece,

Until then I recognise that my true colours bring me inner peace.