To the greats before me
Langston Hughes
(I, Too)
Georgia Douglas Johnson
(When I Rise Up)
Martin Luther King
(I have a Dream)
I have but one question
“How?”
“How can one keep such hope and love in terrible times?”
Because I am in a time that my ancestors could only dream of
I go to school,
With new books and supplies
I mix and mingle with others
With children of many races and ethnicities
Your oppression lifted slightly off my shoulders
Until someone comes and pushes down
I am at the table and thou people don’t want me there
I, too am recognized; I, too am American
BUT
On most days, the table feels further away
My wings clipped and my fetters are tightened
On most days, that old Negro spiritual, once sang like a thousand angels
A forgotten hymn, a silent tear
On most days I am hopeless, Alone and scared
So, I ask you again,
“How?”
With slumped shoulders and a heavy heart
Because once again someone reminds me
That we have not really come that far
That with one word, I am reduced to nothing
And that wait is once again; Crushing
“How?”
With tears in my eyes and death on my brain
Because some days living isn’t worth it
Some days you feel more like cattle
Some days heaven feels far away
“How?”
With a bruised mind and a damaged soul
The Black Queens and Kings,
White washed within my mind
Cleaned and polished, shaped
To their less then human outlook
“How?”
With shame, and humility laced within my tone
With my timeless groomed low self esteem
With sadness of split and broken slave families
And anger of a thousand Black Panther riots
I ask once more
“How can I feel so lost, so hopeless and unloved in a time of such privilege?”
