On Being Black
A little boy sitting all alone, no one to play with
Children running around him, few stop to call him names
Others just ignore him
Bewildered, this little boy looks at his hands
They are as dark as the earth around him
He looks at the children who are playing
It is then that it dawns, he is a different colour
He goes home and says
No one to play with, no one cares for me at school
People call me black and a fool
Why is it Mummy? Have I done something wrong ?
Or is it because I am black ?
A little girl smiled at me yesterday
I gave her a pretty flower
She said ‘Thank you’ as she looked up
Her mother dragged her away and told her not to talk to me
Mummy, is it because I am black?
I went walking home the other day
And there a group of boys punched me
Beat me and called me names
Then they stabbed me, I remembered no more
God, is it because I am black?
I walked through the pearly gates
Angry with God for making me black
Black as the soil of the earth
Curious to see this God who made people black and white
I looked into his eyes filled with pain, anger and grief
God, why did you make me black ?
He looked into my eyes
Tears rolling down his cheeks as he hugged me
Knowing now He felt the pain that I felt
He looked at me again
Holding my shoulders he said
“Son, I too was black”.