poetry || what color black am I?

I am the color of a dark past

Of low quality tin and cast iron water fountains

The color of restrooms and cafe entrances created to keep me away

Of deadly “Whites Only” Coca-Cola vending machines

Uncomfortable bus rides cloaked in fear

My seat has been labeled

My seat has been labeled

I am 4-5 rows in the back of the bus

You don’t want to see me

I am the color of a “Whites Only” sign

Of segregated restaurants, parks, transport and schools

The color of “separate but equal”

Of poor quality schools and education

Unequal distribution of America’s wealth

White mannequins

White mannequins

I am searching for my reflection

You don’t want me to see me

I am the color of a vote denied

Of absent representation for change

The color of the voiceless

Of disenfranchising poll taxes and literacy tests

Beaten – set on fire – lynched from my home

For trying

For trying

I am the suppressed black vote of 1964

You don’t want to hear me

I am the color of tired

Of humiliation, physical violence and constant racial abuse

The color of cross burnings & home invasions by hooded mobs

Of red brutal murders

“There comes a time that people get tired”

We have no choice but to protest

We have no choice but to protest

I am the birth of justice

You are going to hear me

I am the color of a bus boycott

Of strong leaders and historic speeches

The color of an effort to end segregation

Of leaflets, freedom rides and sit-ins

I want some of that “Whites Only” pie

Please

Please

I am the color of Black Power

You are going to see me

I am the color of the movement

Of a Black community on one accord

The color of the united

Of resistence met with church bombings and flame stained crosses

Peaceful protests deemed a threat

A National Guard sent to disrupt the peace

A National Guard sent to disrupt the peace

I am the color of unjust arrests

You don’t want them to hear me

I am the color of the divide

Of the North and the South

The color of three marches in Sunday’s best

Of a race riot

A raised black fist in the air

It’s a Bloody Sunday

It’s a Bloody Sunday

I am the color of an uprise

You don’t want to see me

-by Jocelyn D. Deloney “Nosy Josie”

Mind Jo Business ©2016