Last updated on May 25, 2020
Tomorrow
excuse me, ma’ma
you don’t know me
and I don’t know you
but you look at me
as if you do
and you might not understand
that i grew up in this land
first up North
then down South
went to kindergarten at Pine School
in Massachusetts
and stayed through second grade
‘til i moved away
to Alabama
where i started third grade
and graduated high school
and went on to college
Jacksonville State University
University of Las Vegas Nevada
Southern Union State Community College
and Auburn University with a B.A. degree
yeah, ‘ya don’t know me
I love country music
rock, pop, classical, blues, folk and rap
but I suppose I don’t look like that
you look at me as if
I stole from you
like I stole your crown
like I stole your degree
like I stole your job
like I stole your car
like I stole your house
like I stole your husband
like I stole your life
like I don’t belong
and you want me gone
back to where I came from
heard it all before
but have no idea where i came from
‘cause i was bought and sold
before i could talk
and i don’t remember a thing
other than here
feel like i was born in the U.S.A
that i belong here
‘cause my heart is here
but you look at me
as if I don’t
belong
and I try to understand where you’re coming from
that maybe your life didn’t turn out
and you lost a lot along the way
and I’m sorry you think I stole from you
but believe it or not I worked really hard
for what I got
and none of it came easy
harder than you think
we are different
me and you
and not because
my eyes are different
than yours
but how we see
out of ‘em
the way we view
things
you see me as an alien
probably illegally
I see you as a human
being
a human who hates me
at first sight
and I can’t change that
you have to do that
for yourself
and maybe you will
and maybe you won’t
but maybe your kid
or your grandkid
or your great-grandkid
or your great-great-grandkid
will see different
who knows
but it never hurt
to hope …
“Hope is a thing with feathers
that perches in the soul,
and sings the tune without the words,
and never stops at all,
and sweetest in the gale is heard;
and sore must be the storm
that could abash the little bird
that kept so many warm.
I’ve heard it in the chillest land,
and on the strangest sea;
yet, never, in extremity,
it asked a crumb of me.” – Emily Dickinson
TL