Not a Fable But a Place In Time

Where was this place upon a hill? It would be nice to take you there, It not a fable, but a place in time, Where, people I grew up with Never really saw me, (for me) My invitation to the parties got lost in the mail. So, them say, it would have been honest of them To tell the truth, and said you’re not invited. We speak about racism, we condemned it Racism is not only about black or white Our grandparent uses to favor, the lighter skin grandchildren To the darker skin ones, who was closer to the earth: I see it played out on so many times amongst us: (siblings) as a child growing up, it took me a while to grasp it But I surely felt it. My father and my grandfather Got into so many heated arguments because of it: My father was biracial, his father migrated to Panama To work on the Panama Canal according to his stories My grandmother confirmed it, she never got over his leaving But she held her sons close to her, for their protection From the village idiots, and the local gossipers. “No matter what, always walked with your head up high She will whisper to me, as we strolled through the local village Always hold your head up, but be careful to keep your nose at a friendly level.” – Max L. Forman. 4. Where was the place, upon the hill? I have taken you there so many a times With my stories without being fable, Today, I am who I am Love me or see me not, You see me, but you really don’t know me. You see a poet, you see motionless poem, You see poetry without rhyme …...