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).