Young man-strong, black, and proud
How did you become so?
Brown eyes skyward, Dreams grasped tightly in your ebony hands.
Opportunity leading you toward Success-
a mother leading her child down a path unknown.
Whose footprints do you see?
Your mother's?
Your grandfather's?
Nay, for their lives were spent clearing the path for you.
And why?
Were they not just as lively?
Did their hearts not beat, did their minds not think?
They were wrapped in a skin and a color prevented them.
And of what color do I speak?
Not black, for black is not a color, but red. The red of Anger, Hate, Malice.
Your ancestors overcame with an olive branch.
They fought with pacifism.
Love was in their right hand and peace was their shield.
They gave you a gift, Young man.
What gift did you receive?
A heart? A breath? A voice?
Yea, all these things wrapped in blood and sweat, tied with a ribbon of tears.
Cherish your Gift, Young Man, so the years it took wrapping it will not be in vain.
Copyright 2010 Joshua Appleby
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