My Angel

A beautiful black girl with innocent young brown eyes And she gazes up at me Miss, why are you so beautiful? Miss, why is your hair so straight and mine so... not... I hate mine. Miss, why can't my skin be more like yours? I cry. my Angel why? Can you not see your beauty in the warm chocolate skin; in the alive and wild hair, just like You The injustice of our juxtapositions her black my white, her poverty my luxury And that one defines the other History haunts the streets of her universe and she does not yet know it The battle cries of the gray and blue The weeping of mothers and wives sisters and daughters The hot Detroit sun on the backs of the oppressed The burning hatred of the rioters The gun shots aimed for the leaders of Freedom The martyrs of my Angel's history to change the ways of evil One black One white One cause But Yes, yes indeed Mr. President, We are STILL trapped in a great civil war For all men were created equal but equal they are not So I have a dream, a dream that one day MY children, my Angel of silky brown skin will look at me See me for my chocolate brown eyes and know we are the same we are beautiful