I have written this sometime ago in the form of poetry. Please share my identity with me thought this prose-like write

I seldom say to myself that my light skin might be implicated to my Arab identity but the fact that my roots are buried in African soil denies me to believe that notion.

When I read some of the fables written in some story books I find myself as a twin brother of the Arabs but again I start to smell glaring contradictions in that argument as I don't feel any Arabian blood in my veins.

These writers won't stop confusing me as regards to which identity I genuinely belong to. They keep saying that I have same culture with the Arabs but my traditional dances don't have same beat with that of the Arabs. They practically have an African rhythm.

Not only that but these writers and story tellers continue punching me with their literary fists by claiming that the Somali language is an Arabic derivative while they know that my sweet mother tongue is purely cushitic. Few insertions can’t dilute my rich language.

But soon as I conclude that I am an African and not an Arab, I pick a new fight from within myself. The challenges of knowing who I am do not end here.

Being a Moslem I am disturbed by fellow Moslems who believe that a Moslem cannot take any identity other than that of Islam.

This is a mess. But I shouldn’t allow myself get embroiled in the rhetoric of political and spiritual arguments and I conclude in my short write that I am a human being belonging to the Kingdom of humanity. Love is my identity.