In honor of Black History month:

I look through history
and I see my grandfather,
there on his land in
a village between Haifa
and Jaffa.

With his dark skin and black hair,
he stoops under the sun,
planting the seeds of olive trees.
My other grandfather is in
Beersheba,
chatting with his sheep.

Another people’s grandfather
hails from Bethlehem.
Some see him as a prophet,
others the son of God.
Still others just an extraordinary man.

Yet what we all agree is that
he was no European,
despite the pictures in churches
that depict him with white skin and blue eyes.

Other grandfathers,
from Africa,
tracked and lived with lions to survive,
early evidence of “black power.”
They had no need for Tarzan.

History is filled with colorful skin,
all shades of browns and blacks,
Before white men stood
in front of a mirror,
believing his light skin,
makes a better DNA.