Skin

Skin – Chelsea Nelson Was it my skin that made me a sin? That made me hated by the white men? Or was it that brother Full of soul and color raising his fist higher than any other? What about that sister hand full of blisters from raising that sign towards the sky? What about the children weeping, asking God “why”? Or the preacher and the teacher tired of seeing their people cry All while singing in the streets just so they won't see anymore die. What about that lady holding an 8 month old baby watching her husbands dangling legs? Or that mother of that brother trying to keep a positive head. Could it be that young boy playing with another Who would never again see his mother While Martin Luther King is dreaming And the rest of us are singing Rosa Parks not giving up her seat As we continued to sing in the street That long black panther meeting While a brother is taking a beating From the dangerous sit ins To the dangerous masked men We grew more powerful than any other. I want to thank Ms. Rosa and Dr. King As well as that dark skin brother And tired mother. The lives lost were not in vein In hopes that you all shall reign In heaven above Sharing that soulful peace and love.