• One girl walking down a cold cement street
    A pretty dress that she loves
    Though it’s a hand-me-down, she doesn’t mind
    Best Sunday shoes
    Her Mama said this was a special day
    Said that it was alright to wear them outside of church

    But why was she crying?

    One little black dot in a sea of white
    Hands flying up in the air, people chanting
    She doesn’t know why they are shouting
    Wooden posts blocking the sea from swallowing the little black dot

    She clutches her Mama’s hand
    As they near the large brick building
    And stares up in awe
    The shouts are fading away now

    Stares of fear, stares of anger
    The girl meets eyes at her level
    They are other children
    And though they are a different color than her
    She’s excited to see someone of her own age
    Excited to make some new friends
    Sure that those hard stares are just signs
    That the other kids are nervous too

    “Mama, it’s okay,” She whispers
    “I’m going to make friends.”
    Her Mama lets out a stifled sob
    And the girl is confused
    She doesn’t know why her Mama’s sad

    She can’t know
    Because she’s only a child
    Never subjected to such resentment as the white sea’s children have been
    Never taught to hate, or realize that
    The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree