My Black Children

Come home, wearing their new school clothes
tear stains on their faces, dirt in their hair
rips in her stockings, holes in his tan khakis
questions in between heart-breaking sobs
"Mommy, Why do they call me Black?"
"Momma, What did I do to them?"
My young children ask me
But, what do I tell them?

Do I say, Mommy is sorry
But those children are right
your hair is nappy, your clothes secondhand
your shoes have been by others before you
Or, do I offer them comfort?
Do I say, don't listen to them
they are bad children with no manners

Do I look my children in the eye and lie?
Tell them, it will get better
discrimination will end
when I know that it won't, that even I deal with it.
Should I tell them the truth?
That we are Black, but they should be proud
So I wonder what to say to them
My Beautiful Black Children....

As I wipe the tears from my daughters face
And see her big brown eyes, do I tell her its ok?
Mommy, Will Always Love You.

As I clean the cuts on my sons knees
from falling, protecting his sister
As he looks into my tired eyes
Do I say, "Defend your sister"
Tell him to take a lesson from this
NONE CAN BREAK YOU

What do I say to them?
Already they've felt the pain of the skin they're in
What do I tell them?
Now, while they still question it
Now, before they accept it
Right now, before a hatred can form
For now, I say nothing
For now, I watch my children grow stronger