Raised to Love

I was raised to hate the black man, To spit as he passed me in the street. I was raised to hate his wife, too, The woman I never thought to meet. I was raised to hate their children, All of them with skin darker than mine, Raised not to hesitate if push came to shove; I was never raised to love. They had called it “Civil Rights”; My father scoffed at the phrase. Empathy was not in him, Angry, he laughed. “Kids these days.” I was raised to do what was right. My father made sure of that. I sat in sit-ins, I stood for freedom. I realized you cannot be raised to love. Even from behind these cold bars I cheer the warriors on.