Naïveté

I cannot know what it means to be Black

In America. Neither can I know

What it means to be a woman. See, back

In my youth I learned what it meant to go

Anonymous amid oppression. It’s

A simple thing to disappear when life

Presents barriers to those whose bits

Of DNA condemn them to the strife

Of standing out. My ease at who I am

Informs an entitlement that I bear

Uneasily. Naive, I smiling ran

Like a cretin, a rube, without the fear

About which others prayed. But now it’s plain…

A white man cannot understand their pain.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s