So, my mom bore me in the

wild of the west Indies

This little black boy,

but! What if my soul is white;

 

White as an angel is an English child;

But I ‘m black as if lights out.

My mom taught me in a yam field,

Standing before a

hundred- and ten-degrees’ heat.

 

She took me on her lap

with kiss to tha forehead,

Pointing to the east,

then look at me to say:

“Look at where the sun rising:

 maybe that’s where God lives,

Giving us his light,

always giving away his heat to us;

So, the grass, trees, beasts and men receive

Comfort in the morning,

joy at noon and………. Hush”

 

She said “we were put here in a little space,

Where we may learn to bear a beam of love,”

So, this black body and this sun burnt face

In a cloud, rocky like a shady grove

But mom…… shhhh! Hand to the face

 

Then she said

“so, when our souls have

learn’d the heat to bear,

The cloud will disappear;

then we will hear his voice, saying

‘Come out from the pride,

my love and care,

So, around my golden tent

will look like lambs rejoicing.”

 

This was what my mother said,

 kiss on the forehead

Me with a look of concern,

thinking of my English girl

 

I am bold now to saying,

‘when I from black and

you from white cloud free’,

So, at the tent of God,

 we be like lambs, we joy.

 

I’ll shade you from the heat

til I can’t bear

To learn in joy of our Heavenly father knee;

As you touch my black bald head

and say,

“oh my, you for sure will be my little black boy”

THE END