A Product of society they say
"I am not a product," she gently whispers
Unknown, the suffering of my fading culture
The color, it defines who We are
Struggling, striving, and suffering
I blink, the color red appears
Encompassing her thoughts
Yearning, she longs for a home
The divisions among us define us
The separation visible
My brothers, sisters we are all we have
The cold ground beneath my feet bare crimson tears

I am not a product.
I have come far anticipating what is to come
What is not to come

Hope, it surges every emotion
Again, she hesitates to express her capricious emotions
When?

She waits for the home of hands as one
"My culture is my home," she says

Expose the truth!
It waits screaming to be heard
Ethnic cleansing
The two words resonate in my head
Lack of recognition is quite familiar to her weakening heart
She waits...
"Please", she cries. "Stop the hatred, the tears, and most
importantly, the color that defines me and my people"

I am not a Product.

Written by: Mary Oshana