His-Story
If you are to see my face,
You will find that I am a part of the black race,
Yes, a male at that,
But still I am black
I was told that my color was a curse,
And that I would always be last and not first,
Which I would come to know
As lack, troublesome, and woe,
I was told if I was to try to learn of my past,
That I was not going to see,
This left me questioning my place in His-story.
They say that I came
From a land that I never saw,
Yet they want to call it the land of kings and queens,
But since I do not know my past,
I still hold onto the dream to be free at last,
So then I am to believe that I come from glory,
But is this to be my story?
It seems as if it is his-story.
It is being told, and I do accept the fact,
That I was bought and sold
For weapons and gold,
This still does not stop me
From having purpose and a sense of direction,
You see,
Because I find emancipation,
Through my spirit and thirst to achieve my aspirations
Although I struggle at times
To find peace of mind,
Knowing that I am living in perilous times,
Yet still I am asking the Lord for signs,
For me to find with him to guide
Me through a world that has such a closed mind,
Still I am learning what is God’s purpose for me,
And not just to be a part of history.
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