My mixed body is a battleground.

17 years of bloodshed, the source slyly

laying in my epidermis. (My melanin an atom bomb)

I imagine the successful egg and sperm did not

Join, merge or unite- but

Shoot, destruct, colonise, subjugate

A coloured baby born in war:

Wreaking havoc, leaving carnage

By outward appearance.

My parents wear blue helmets, assuaging

Tension between grand-parents.

I marauder through their homes,

A vestige of the 2003 massacre when I

Was born a bit browner than they expected.

Unsalvageable, yet I am sequestered to the shade,

Bequeathed strong sunscreen like a reluctant peace treaty

Victory is pyrrhic when I intentionally tan

Youthful sedition manifesting in lackadaisical hours

Under the relentless terroristic sun. But

appeasement is over, peaceful co-existence with mind and body

-no more- as I crave the bounty of Brown skin.

I understand my privilege: the ability to

Wear my lineal heritage and be seen

For better or for worse, this is my gain:

Ancestral connection won each glimpse in the mirror

Brown skin is my shining armour.