How dare you tell me what to feel or
how to think as if you were me or even a part of me.
How dare you tell me
I don’t see what I see,
feel what I feel, smell what I smell or
hear what I hear.
Do you know the pain of being judged by the color of my skin?
Or even being limited by prejudice views that attempt to define who I am?
Do you know me? Really know me!
Do you see the tears in my eyes when your actions
attempt to reduce me to less than the human being that I am?
How dare you belittle me because my skin is different and
I fail to let you continue to humiliate me!
Who are you to say that I deserve less than you
because you are so determined not to accept me for me
beyond the color of my skin or the limited views you have of me?
How dare you attempt to silence me
for being willing to speak up and out for me as you continue
to be determined to keep me in my rightful place that you deem so appropriately.
Beyond the color of my skin have I not flesh that bleeds red when it is pierced?
Like the color of Christ’s blood when they pierced his side with a spear!
If only you could walk a mile in my shoes;
you probably wouldn’t even last a step!
More than forty years later, no mule or forty acres.
Torn from my mother and never knew my father.
Sold into slavery as spectators probed and prodded.
Wall Street now, but not long ago a slave trade center with me as a commodity.
Just a constant reminder of the struggle of my ancestors as the words of
Martin Luther King, Jr. ring loud and clear in my inner ear:
Free at last, free at last! Thank God almighty, I’m free at last.
Free from physical bondage, yet not completely free from persecution or
the racist views of the past that seem to raise its ugly head whenever it is fed.
Fueled by rage and anger that keeps growing with ignorance through power and politics.
How can such a tree be used as a form of capital punishment
that took the life of many of my brothers and sisters
to be more important than justice for the Jena Six and others?
Justice for one and not for all! Not even equal by far!
If only you could walk in my shoes!
Tarred and feathered; I say not!
Oh, such cruelty!
Strange fruit hanging from a tree with lifeless limbs,
no one bothered to see me as a spirit;
no, not even a human being.
A spirit full of life;
a spirit full of hope;
a spirit just longing to be free!
I am somebody with a soul!
I am a child of God;
regardless, of the color of my skin.
Redeemed by His blood and saved by His grace;
I am more than a conqueror.
Being healed from my past as He sustains me
to be the Queen I was meant to be
as I continue to endure through this unfortunate iniquity!
Loved by Him who created me!
Cherished by Him who dwells within me!
Accepted by Him who is a part of me!
Strengthened by Him who truly cares for me!
For Him I live and for Him I die
with Him not only walking along side of me;
He feels my pain, He sees my scars and
sees my scares that others so quickly dismiss or deny!
If only you could walk a mile in my shoes;
perhaps, it would be more - than just an apology!
An apology of truth; an apology of action with no hint of the past.
An apology that shows promise and change;
not one of broken words for political gain
with no evidence of human change in the name of humanity.
Until then and only then, can you honestly say
you know what it is to walk a mile in my shoes.
Written on June 23, 2008
Posted on July 21, 2013
Copyright December 2010
Ann Gwen Mack
Posted By: Ann Mack
Sunday, July 21st 2013 at 5:50AM
You can also
click
here to view all posts by this author...
