A Poem

SUAD NURAHMED, Times Contributor

Like the sand’s color on a warm summer day at the beach is my skin tone.
I never thought of me writing in my third language a poem.

Here is me, like everyone else, wondering where I am from.
Did I come from the desert or the African jungles or California’s green mountains where I found my soul. Never mind me, I am just having long conversations at night with myself.

Not mad at the world, but glad I am still able to explain myself better than everyone else.
Wait a second, I think I know.
I know that all of my 152 pounds and 5’6” hates wars. Hates domestic violence that is widespread in homes. Hates that people are hungry on the other side of the world.

Hates that humans destroy environments, causing the global to warm.
Worried what my future children would have left from the earth.

Disgusted by the fact that you get distracted by my height and weight.
Didn’t I ask you to wait?
didn’t I purposely forget to mention my age? Didn’t I patiently try to fix things where broken but Badly fail?!

Who am I? I am a female.