The Tragedy Of Race

              To the outsiders
We were just shadows
Slipping in and out of existence
Unaware
Undomesticated
Ignorant
            To the outsiders
We were just empty vessels
Howling when the wind blew
Filled up with plenty of not anything
           To them our eyes were glassy and dull
And our songs senseless
And our joy worthless…
           We did not see much in them either
They seemed to us
As we seemed to them
But different
For one can only see through one’s own eyes
And never another’s
           And so from separate sides of existence
We hated each other
Without ever understanding
What the other was
Or could become

by Sonja Burton

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