Dying Breed

They observed signs For Coloreds Only

(and those less polite), but then took front seats

on buses, sat at Woolworth lunch counters like normal

people in defiance of accepted rules.

Though laws changed, they knew

the rules would not. They worked

twice as hard to get half as far, pushed

their children toward equal footing.

Each time they were passed over or denied

for so-called legitimate reasons proved

that their skin factored in decisions,

that prejudice colored the system.

They still do not trust the Man–

despite working side-by-side at assembly lines,

accepting his children as part of their families–

because colorblind promises remained unfulfilled.

Each time their children grasped the dream

tears gleamed in their eyes, hearts full

of gratification for success of the one,

of lament for the others who were failed.

They still sing for freedom, a luta continua

carried on collective breath with the hope

that when the last of them is gone,

the rest of us continue the struggle.