Author: Abdallah Suleiman

We are travelers on one spinning shore, Carved from clay by the same unseen hand. No crown was placed on skin or shade We rise and fall on equal land. They drew false borders in the mind, With chains of thought and lines of hate. Yet truth outlives the maps of man Love never needed to segregate. A darker hue, a lighter tone, Are merely echoes of the sun. The pigment in our outward shell Hides hearts that beat as only one. Colonial ghosts still haunt today, In silent laws and subtle speech. But justice is the louder wind That…