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Vera Kilgore Heilig: Her Poetry Lives (2017) H. Morris Williams, Marie Law Haire
Son of Ham, Age Four
He thrust his hands out, dark side down,
Offering the desperate proof
Of small pink palms.
“Me not a cullud boy. Me White.”
I said:
“It doesn’t matter what your skin is like;
It’s what’s inside that counts.”
Four years of being black
Lurking behind his eyes
Leapt up to give my platitude the lie
“God loves his dark-skinned children too.”
Too?
Reminder
The snow still covers all the ground,
But buds are breaking through
To hail a Spring not here as yet,
And so, my heart, can you.
The sorrow that has held you bound
Will melt if you will do
As nature does when flowers let
The warming sun imbue
Them with new life. Look all around.
Frail buds are breaking through.
But you, my heart, did you forget
That life was meant for you?
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