Speaking My Words with a Pen

That Word, Part 2 From a Grandmother’s Point of View I’m blessed at my old age, I thank God that we are free, But I never thought I would be in this predicament, Having these young folks disrespecting me. My grandfather used to say “coloreds,” My grandmother used to say “blacks,” Now my grandsons using “that word,” In my house, I’m not having that. They say it’s a term of endearment, But it’s not a term I want to hear, I have the memories and nightmares, As they beat us from ear-to-ear. I don’t like talking about those times, Don’t like being inferior to anyone, I didn’t like the things that happened to us, Questioning the things, those people had done. I don’t understand why they use that word Just don’t use it out of respect for you and me, All the words we could use to show our intellect, And that word is the one you choose to select. You weren’t there when we marched, You don’t know how it feels to get beat, You don’t know the humiliation we faced, With police dogs chasing us down the street. You didn’t hear the bombs go off, You didn’t have to whisper in the back room, Trying to regroup and plot your escape, Hoping this will all end soon. You didn’t see the crosses burning on the front yard, Didn’t see your loved ones hanging from a tree, But you have the nerve to look me in my face, And say that word in front of me. No, not after all we have been through, When deep down I know how it feels, It may be 50 years later, But those wounds have yet to heal. See today, you have a choice, You can get out there and vote, You can actually help make a change, Instead of believing in false hope. So out of love and respect for our heroes, And to eliminate the confusion and controversy, Think about removing that word from your vocabulary, As a step to help change our image in this society.