Arms straight pressed to her torso, fingers curled
Born into a world full of hate and distain
Some will look at her large round nose
And tangled coiled curly hair with lips curling is disgust
She and body with skin dark as night
Will enter the school with eyes watching her every move
Waiting for her to mess up
To laugh at her
And they whisper and sneer and jeer
Taunting the slang and diction she was taught
And the skin her ancestors worked hard to keep
And they will push her
Push her to her worse
Push her to tears as the bee sting of her scraped knee
Pours out the blood and water her ancestors worked so hard to keep
Inside their bodies as they toiled the fields
And she looked up with the flickering ceiling light
Blaring like the sun
And a pale naked clean hand reached out to her own
And in her hands they placed theirs
And in her hands they placed hope.
YOU ARE READING
The Musings of Your Average Black Poet
Poetry© 2016 MAD-HATTER-INK ALL RIGHTS RESERVED