Tuesday, February 18, 2014

Black Mother, White Child

Mama Trinidad, push white baby boy so slow, ride the bus along 5th Avenue
Blonde, blue eyes watching, wondering where his mama at, where she be

They look on, faces like Pablo Picasso, three eyes and two crooked noses
But you got them devil eyes, looked upon a snake outside a Baptist church

Oh Mama, don’t feel the pressure, no rain, the sun sure looks pretty today
Come a time when you make his bed, set your eyes deep on all you see

You come from a black world, did with hands and you did with your mind
But you molded, what you never learned in school, became a golden rule

Love more than your kind, raise a child, find so many reasons in this world
What makes him a boy or girl, is it a dress she wears, or does he shoot a gun

I was brought up by young women with stoned skin, washed me in a bin
Soap and water, they cleaned me of dirt, dried me off with a white towel

How they came into the city, looking for the white man’s education, but no
There was none, instead they cooked through out the day, made little money

Washing pots and pans, sweeping mats and floors, polishing off doors
Closing them behind, sleeping, a room with mosquitoes and mice, a sacrifice

Tell me stories about when you sat with your grandma, making sense
This cruel world, where they walked miles to fetch water, fire made of wood

Served white men in white suits, trouble it took, for all the days spent
She was not like the other girls, married off, scented candles and pearls

Taken away by money men, lived in houses abroad, raised yellow children
For them you hold no spite, they shined in a different light, faces of love

Beautiful, cream colored, eyes that saw into night, white lies, blonde tresses
Iron these clothes ever so slow, try them on with your mind, let not worry

Paint a dirty picture, her husband gives you money, it comes from love
What you provide for them, could never come from a girl who lives above

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