In Africa is found the broken little bits
of bone that tell the truth of it:
We are, all us, African flown
with little racial bits to call our own.
Though we struggle to point our finger
the little racial bits do linger
in the those digits curled tight
pointing back to us as if to light
the way back to the truth we have lost
behind us, left, to the side, tossed.
We are, all of us, of one breed;
black inside the womb, white as the seed.
Oh we struggle, caught and trapped,
by our own hand our backside slapped,
as we pretend to believe the lie
that divides us, you from I.

So  ‘white’ I stand before you ‘black’
as any African man but take a step back
for you dear son of slaves and slaver’s sons
are not untouched by this and are undone
to realize, that before me, looking me up and down,
stands another white man with a touch of brown.
Go ahead, divide us into a lie
that mere color determines if we live or die

There are no ‘young black boys’
just boys waiting to fuss and bother
the world as young men or a liar’s toys.
The choice made, or not, by so simple a thing as a father.

And when another digger finds our bones in the sands
will he nod and sagely lecture that he understands
the fossilized distinction he so cleverly employs
to distinguish young white from young black boys?

Javon Johnson - "cuz he's black" (NPS 2013)  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=u9Wf8y_5Yn4