Weak sunlight shines as my only spotlight
And the podium stands crisp with cold.
Feelings of honor and pride are overwhelming,
Now shush crowd, do as you’re told.
Mr. President sits just behind me
This is his welcoming in.
I raise my voice and begin to paint,
Pictures on the wind.
Upon the canvas sky I draw,
Images of our segregation
Upon the clouds I illustrate,
Our people’s discrimination.
I speak to my spellbound masses
With rhymes and simple melodies,
Of how our time is changing
With the coming of equalities.
With a sigh my paintbrush falls
And I perceive this new dawn rising
How proud am I to glimpse its come
And ride the wave of changing.
Weak sunlight shines as I step away,
The podium cold with condensation
Feeling privileged to represent
My people at this Inauguration.