The Reservation of Proudness

I’m not proud of the color of my skin,
I did nothing to get it, it happened by nature.
But I love my shade, my color is beautiful.
I’m not proud of my culture,
But I love some of the things from it.
I can’t be proud of my country,
I did not choose to be born there.
But I am grateful of the place where I was born.
I can’t be proud of something I didn’t built,
I can’t be proud of something I didn’t choose.
To be proud of your race, your color, your country
Is to be proud of separation based on country, color, or race.
But to love your skin, your culture, your country,
Is to acknowledge our differences,
Is to understand that we can all love who we are,
Without lessening the human value of others.
It means you can tell your neighbor,
I love you and the color of your skin, as much as I love mine.
And I love that we are different,
And perhaps, one day, we will love or respect our differences.

B. Meza ©7/4/17

Advertisements

About B. Meza

Writing is liberating.
This entry was posted in Poetry, Thoughts about life, Uncategorized and tagged , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s