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