To the Forlorn Black Child of the 21st Century
By Aimée Pringle
Hometown: Jacksonville, NC
Major: Legal Communications
E-mail: sunshineprincess_aimee@yahoo.com

  
Hey Black child . . . 
Why’s your head bowed so low?
You walk around looking as if the world that’s against you
Is the same one you have to carry on your shoulders
Hey Black child . . .
Why’s your head bowed so low?
Was your life repeatedly threatened as you attempted to lead your people to freedom during cold, dark nights?
Hey Black child . . .
Can you remember when, first your church, then your home were set on fire--with you inside them?
Hey Black child . . .
Did it hurt when they sprayed you off the streets with fire hoses as if you were a speck of dirt worthy of nothing more?
Hey Black child . . .
Do your feet still hurt from all of the marches, protests, and sit-ins (where you never really got to sit down) for rights that you should’ve had to begin with?
Hey Black child . . .
Were you mad all those times that there were seats in the front, but you had to go to the back--to stand?
Hey Black child . . .
Do you ever wonder why you can’t drink from, eat at, or even learn at the same places that they can?
Yeah, that’s what I thought . . . 
So, why is it, Black child . . .
That you have the nerve to hang your head so low?
. . .What exactly is your struggle?

©Aimée D. Pringle