I announced,  “Happy Kwanzza!”

Out of a genuine gesture

Of brotherhood

Without doubting whether I should

To a fellow stranger

Who was not in my brown

Skin

He was filled with wonder when

The words spilled out of my mouth

And asked, “Are you talking to me?”

Of course I am, I replied

It IS about unity and building

Relationships

“Oh!” he said with a startled look

Passing along the surprise in his

Eyes to the multi-heritage child

Whose hand he held

“Happy Kwanzza!” she erupted

Breaking the quiet stillness in 

The check-out line

Barely old enough to speak or

Understand

—maggie d., African American poet, Washington.

Frost and snow puzzles me

Hailing from Sudan

Icicles and sleet

Billowing clouds holding no

Heat

Makes me weep

For sandy dust sweeping

Across tan dunes 

Never ruining my shoes

With muddy slush of melted snow

Oh

Without constant sun

Running for fun

Getting drenched by rain

Has made me aim

For returning to Wad Madani

Leaving behind winter

Without a whimper

I will laugh again with 

Sunglasses on to watch

Camels parade upon dirt roads

But I suppose it will take awhile

For Alab to say

“Goodbye Sigh-beria!”

By Maggie d., Washington.