you with your voices raised and your hands clutching your pocketbooks
for fear of the sea of culture that is not your own
you with your God given rights
asking others to prove their worth
you are undeserving of the splendors for you know not the struggles
if worthiness is what you seek, prove your own
to you a beating heart is not enough
try to wash your hands clean of the havoc provoked on foreign lands
the sins of your father’s may not be your own
but admirable is he who bears them nonetheless
you with your voices raised and pocketbooks clenched tight
see your brother before you, the child at your feet, the beating heart
the gifts you have can be shared
for they are not yours by right but by chance
