Looking through the minute hole,
I see a girl.
A man.
They don’t see me but they know I’m on the other side.
They gossip of me, of my family, of my kind.
They pronounce those words that eat at my heart.
They tell stories of us blacks.
Of how we caused many problems.
Of how we were like animals.
Not deserving anything.
Of how it was better when we were separate.
Of how it had been. How it should be.
Of how we must be separate.
Of how they despise us.
What have we done?
How are we wrong?


Looking through the hole,
I see a girl.
A woman.
A woman.
They don’t see me but they know I’m on the other side.
I hear them converse about us whites.
About how we are racist, cruel and harsh.
How we like our own. No more.
They talk of the fence
Blocking out those who differ.
They say our words are poison
They tell how they felt, how they feel.
They want Equal and Together.
They like us but not our action.
What have we done?
How are we wrong?