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”.