Mama pulls up to the mailbox
You get out of the car
She drives up to the house
You'll check the mail and walk
Aren't you scared?
Of walking down the street alone
After all these years
of being seen the way you're seen
With your turban
How do you feel safe?
In a country where people believe you don't belong
Now, I get it
We look around
everyone is white
And you're so polite
And loving to everyone you meet
But you know
They might turn around at any time
saying go back to your country
go back, go back to where?
Maybe that's what you meant
when you told me
You'll never be white
I looked at my skin
of course
But you meant
You'll never be one of them
And you're nice
And they're nice
But the minute someone asks where you're from
It's us and them
Again
Maybe that's what you meant
Will I let it slide
if someone says something about what's on your head
Or will I say
that's my father
What if it's not words,
but a piercing gaze
how will we protect ourselves then?
If it's a policeman
What am I going to say?
You
have to face it
And you wish the universe could spare your children
That's what you meant