What does color mean to me, whose reflection do I see?
Black and white, yellow and green, who’s the man that is me.
The world is a strange and funny place, to judge a person by their face.
Why do people need to know, the color of your skin before they know, if they
want to be your friend, or sit with you or just pretend.
When I see inside of me, it’s hard to tell who I can be.
Am I judged by my skin tone? If that’s the case, why is it so?
When I look around and see, other people, they look like me.
I don’t stop and judge their face, why do they care about my race.
Our government that we have now, say that they are really proud, to have a man
who stands up tall, and is the color, of nightfall.
But in the end, I don’t see, why it matters if I am me.
For I believe that in the end, our spirit is free for us to see, and past the color of
our skin, to understand our journeys begin.
I met a girl I really like, and want to have her for my wife. But should it matter that
it be, the color of her skin is darker than me.
When I look upon her face, beauty is all that I grace. Her soul shines through
most every day, and when I look upon her, I feel the same.
Our children will most surely be, a beautiful color of her and me. And when we
look upon their face, they will most surely grace, the beauty that is black and
white, that spans all time and dark of night.
Photo courtesy of our friend, David Joaquin at www.twohawkstudio.com