Pray Tell Me

Listen here now. Does it really seem that the darkness of skin is a reflection of the soul? That the deep pigments of color ultimately symbolize what’s within? Why, every day the yellow sun sinks and the dark night sits painstakingly, tranquilly, waiting for light. This cruel, unforgiving light shed an oppressive beam on our people, only but a few decades ago. Can’t you see the little black boy with nappy hair, tattered overalls, bare feet and wide eyes? He asks his mother: Momma why can’t I just be white? Tears stream down her face; cold water melting into warm chocolate. How can she explain the pointing, the vulgar words spit like acid, and frayed bus seats when there is no reason why? How can she describe what they, the suppressors, did? They didn't subjugate them. They didn't repress them. They didn't take their right to vote away. They took their right to live away. The only darkness that these people of different hues harnessed was the blackened feelings of odium and injustice. Hatred and prejudice so fierce that it appeared that God himself had abandoned them. But God doesn't leave the strong. He sent leaders and angels to aid our people and raise them to the mountaintops. Once our people reached the peak, the road to freedom and redemption was paved. But pray tell me…without our people’s strength, would we have been saved?