A beautiful black girl with
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?
my Angel why?
Can you not see your beauty in
the warm chocolate skin; in
the alive and wild hair, just like
The injustice of our juxtapositions
And that one defines the other
History haunts the streets of her universe
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
The martyrs of my Angel's history
to change the ways of evil
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
See me for my chocolate brown eyes
we are the same
we are beautiful