Each individual face
a different shade of black
each expression inscrutable
each one’s body language
unreadable.
They wait to hear
if I’m worth the effort
of their listening
or if they should just act
polite.
This is foreign territory
in a foreign land
Delmar, St. Louis
seems a million miles
from home.
I’ve listened to their
militant street wise verse
wishing for the same passion
in my own ordinary
scribbles
Take the plunge…
microphone at mouth level
I pass the feed back test and plunge headlong
into a song sans music
of Aboriginality.
I’m white
but for a while
with words I’m black
stating the case for the cause
wondering if they understand my accent.
Over…I can breath
lap up the applause and “Amen Sister”
delight in the hugs
and know you don’t have to be black
to have Soul.