I sit in this chair
And look upon an image that churns my heart
Young black boys gather around a cooler
For a drink of water,
Whilst my Massa’s daughter sits in a caddy
Nearly paralyzed with fear
Of the jeopardy of her life
If this gray jumper suit wasn’t upon me
She would look upon me with those same eyes
Her ancestors made us who we are.
The iniquities of her forefathers
Fell upon the third and fourth generation
And slavery was not too far
She feels it
Secretly sending signals to keep peace
Whilst trying to keep cool, composed and calm
But I was not at peace
Black and white stand before me
Choice-less because I’m gray.
So I stay in between,
Until the scene
Of a three year old negro girl becomes a reality;
Shirt, panty, four plaits and deaf
I drop the cotton sack,
Left the cotton field,
And aided her in her conquest for a quenched throat.
She looked so happy
With a smile like my cup of oil it runneth over
Filling me up with a smile
I stand for my people despite they won’t stand for me
But there is no difference.
By: Ejaz Francis