The Color of My Skin

Please, I ask, don’t hate me for the color of my skin.

This superficial coating isn’t really all I am.

I promise I will judge you not;

Might even call you friend

In an all-inclusive parallelogram.

 

It’s not my fault that I was born to

Parents who are white;

A matter over which I’ve no control.

And though I cannot understand

Your struggle or your plight,

Perhaps we’ll find some commonality inside our souls.

 

Traditions demand loyalty to generations past

To perpetuate the evil as well as the sublime,

Making changing attitudes a glacierous affair,

Another Everest implausible to climb.

 

We wait, we pray the world will grant us favor

That transgressions of the past may be absolved.

We reach a hopeful hand across the table

And the interaction softens our resolve.

 

I won’t apologize or ask forgiveness

For the prior generations of my kin.

I only want to meet you looking forward,

So, I ask you, please,

Don’t hate me for the color of my skin.