My Skin, My Sin

      Though various verifiable variations emerge,
      Among beings moulded from dust,
      All are carbon copies of their moulder’s image.
      Hence to treat all with love is a divine must.
      Separately, colours of the rainbow are scarcely that splendid,
      But behold the rainbow as a whole;
      After the dull colours have divinely blended.
      Moral; diversity is divine. Uniformity, a bore.
            Yet here I am, living in
            Fear. All because of my skin.

      I hardly chose to like this, be born.
      I was born to the Lord’s will and pleasure.
      Some can not look at me and not frown,
      While some regard me as an island of treasure.
      They have conspired to do me harm.
      At home, playground, even in class.
      People hesitate to accept me as I am.
      They point and whisper as I pass.
            All because of the condition of my skin.
            Lord, is my skin condition a curse for some sin?

      It’s now fifteen years,
      Since my sister kissed Mama Earth.
      She died of AIDS.
      She acquired it neither via coitus nor by birth.
      She was raped by a certain man.
      In those by-gone, ignorant days.
      When people believed that bedding an
      Albino cured one from AIDS.
            Wherever you’re sister, in eternal peace rest.
            One of these days I’m gonna be your guest.

      My skin is the sole source of my plight.
      My life is far from fine.
      I’m always indoors day and night.
      Because beings with a condition like mine.
      Are being hunted by fortune-hungry hounds.
      Already, some friends have been slaughtered and consumed.
      My sister’s and some already-gone albinos’ mounds,
      Have been ransacked and their remains exhumed.
            Do you these barbaric deeds behold?
            If you do, where is your wrath Lord?