Fare thee well now -Grateful Dead
In Woodstock, sacred
space, I’m confused (scattered
like lost words) for a moment
when they ask
where I’m from (black, glistening,
it tastes like beets).
I forgot prejudice (nothing
to tell now). Misunderstanding,
I don’t attempt to explain
what took me years (let your life
proceed by its own design) to learn.
They don’t need to know
what I know. Let them
assume (let the words be yours,
I’m done with mine).