I Will Not Be Satisfied...

We are doing school applications and school tours right now for Levi. We recently visited the Manhattan Country School and in their literature was this poem written by an eight grade student. I had tears in my eyes during during the parents meeting when I read it, and I wanted to share it with you:

I will not be satisfied until I can walk down
my northern Park Avenue
with my jeans
and T-shirt
and old sneakers
and hold my head high.

I cannot be satisfied until
I can walk with my white friend in Halem
without that thick blinding fog
lurking 'round corners'
glued and stuck to you -
that think blinding fog
known as hatred.

It's up in my beloved
northern Harlem
bearing a shade of heavy cream.
It's so had to see through it.

I will not be satisfied until
I can say, "my people,"
and all will know
I'm not just speaking
of my black culture
but of my Hispanic culture
of my Japanese culture
of my Jewish culture
of my white American
of my Chinese culture
of my European
of my Christian
of my Muslim
of my Asian
of my Indian
of my Australian
of my Buddhist
of my Eskimo culture.

They'll all know my people are
the human race,
my culture the human culture.
For I am not one, but many.

When I can speak
of my people as one
I will be satisfied.