I’m not black… (a poem)

I’m not black, I’m flesh, and I’m the color of the sun…
It’s not his story its my story, and it’s only just begun.

Wrapped up in those pages of lies that only go so far,
I ask…”Tell me more about it sir, because I only see the scar.”

The scars of what are causing now a nation to unfold,
The murders, protests, riots, not just something to behold.

To reach beyond the scope of everything written in times past,
The lessons that are evidently missing from our class.

To ask ourselves how it is that we have what each of us has,
To ask ourselves the question how does something like this last?

Finding that these things persist from origins of sin,
When we began by classifying pigment of one’s skin.

What’s your tribe? A true disguise reduced to colors black and white.
What’s your heritage? Look into it and discover the real fight.

Untold truth, identity theft, these nightmares on repeat,
End up in expressed repression pouring out onto the street.

Filled with all of the same things that was filled inside of man,
Contrary acts, the constitution penned by fallen hand.

We like to hold onto the things, believe in things we thought were so secure,
Looking further into truth however makes these things a blur.

Left without, just flesh and spirit looking for what’s clear,
The only thing left is to stand for redemption draweth near.*

*(Luke 21:28)