The time has come for us to talk

And let you see the paths we’ve walked. . .

If once Warrior King in your native Land

But now called “Boy” and deemed less than a man,

. . . Maybe You’d Feel Differently

If your grandfather’s corpse swayed from giant oak tree

As the crowd waved “THAT FLAG” in a warm southern breeze,

. . . Maybe You’d Feel Differently

Whether General, Mogul or on the “White” track

But always doubted because you are Black,

. . . Maybe You’d Feel Differently

If you own a nice home or drive a nice car

And still made to feel you haven’t come far,

. . . Maybe You’d Feel Differently

If you walk down the street and she clutches her purse

Or, to not pose a threat, you press your floor first,

. . . Maybe You’d Feel Differently

Should we take off our masks and remove our suits

And allow you to peer deep down to our roots,

. . . Then Maybe, Just Maybe, You’d Feel Differently

Poem by Claude Weir