By Kabriel Moorehead
What will we tell our sons
If they are looked upon harshly in school
Will we console them with the thought that daddy was bullied too
But was too afraid to do anything
Will that be the calling card of our generation?
The one that looked a courageous moment in the face and cowered instead
Oh how our ancestors faces would wither in shame
To know how far we have come
Only to lose our luster
How tragic it would be to finally become a big cat in this man made jungle
Only to lose our ability to pounce upon a radiant opportunity
What will we tell our sons
Who have come home beaten and battered
Like grapes left out in the sun to dry
Their dreams of becoming kings deferred by a left hook
That erased any hope in their eyes for becoming the greatest
Should we inform them that mediocrity is a sin
If they are looked upon harshly in school
Will we console them with the thought that daddy was bullied too
But was too afraid to do anything
Will that be the calling card of our generation?
The one that looked a courageous moment in the face and cowered instead
Oh how our ancestors faces would wither in shame
To know how far we have come
Only to lose our luster
How tragic it would be to finally become a big cat in this man made jungle
Only to lose our ability to pounce upon a radiant opportunity
What will we tell our sons
Who have come home beaten and battered
Like grapes left out in the sun to dry
Their dreams of becoming kings deferred by a left hook
That erased any hope in their eyes for becoming the greatest
Should we inform them that mediocrity is a sin
Worshiped only by the weakest individuals in the world
Or does that diction hold no value
Because it would make us hypocrites
Our own actions have been mediocre
Our attempts to quell the intense need that people seem to have to belittle each other
Have been woefully managed
So when my son comes home with tears in eyes
Caused by some school yard villain
I will tell him not to fret, and that everything will be alright
I will then tell the stories of my ancestors
Who marched, boycotted, and sat in everywhere they could
In order to make sure their voice was heard
And together our children will wonder why we didn't do the same
Or does that diction hold no value
Because it would make us hypocrites
Our own actions have been mediocre
Our attempts to quell the intense need that people seem to have to belittle each other
Have been woefully managed
So when my son comes home with tears in eyes
Caused by some school yard villain
I will tell him not to fret, and that everything will be alright
I will then tell the stories of my ancestors
Who marched, boycotted, and sat in everywhere they could
In order to make sure their voice was heard
And together our children will wonder why we didn't do the same
Copyright 2012| Kabriel Moorehead
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