you ask me what it's like to be black
and i'll tell you it's a warm soulful fulfilling feeling
like a pair of new Chucks on the hot pavement jumping scotch on a busy summer day
eating cool iced pops and not ever being afraid
and smelling the warm carmel cake cooling on the stove
and the togetherness on a Sunday evening in grandmama's home

but you ask me what it's like to be black
in america
and i'll fall silent of conversation
because as you see history repeats itself
i don't understand why there is still need for explanation
in deep adversaries and hateful unappreciation
here we stand to be questioned by an authoritative negation

and ignorant folk,
why do you ask me such things?
why are you people mad?
why is it about race?

and i'll ask you, why does the caged bird sing?
is he not entitled to his song or his wings?

as green as the earth and as blue as the sky
i will only explain to an ear willing to listen
to a being with a sound heart and a firm mind
because as God as my witness we were created as equal

and for that given right we must die?

i will sit back and in turn ask you why;
i bet you couldn't say
and maybe we will all learn the answer some day
so join me in prayer will you?
join me as i pray:

to the children of Chicago
who can't go out to play
to the sons and fathers of
Missouri and Florida and New York
who will never again see the light of day
to the mother's pain that may fade
but won't ever go away
to the hateful people and their hateful words and their hateful ways
God won't You heal their pain?

they're so ******* us, Lord
now we're ******* ourselves
and on our knees we have fallen
needing guidance and help
because it isn't about being privilged
or living for the light we're consumed in

being black in america is no longer about being accepted as black

it's about being accepted as human.

For a while
Without words
My mind became mad
Sulking and aching
And suddenly words
Came and so did
Warm arms.