Between Two Worlds

by Michael Smith

In the land where the stars and stripes soar, where dreams are born,

I tread a path of shadow and light.

From two rivers, dark and light,

My story is a tapestry, each thread telling a tale.

My skin, a blend of hues,

Speaks of histories, struggles, and love intertwined.

I reflect on the past, where my roots run deep,

From cotton fields to city streets, the stories persist.

They see me as "other," a box without a name,

Caught in a dance, this beautiful, painful game.

On the right, they whisper, "Not quite like us,"

A divided heart, ensnared in their distrust.

Yet in the mirror, I see a nation’s face,

A reflection of unity, a delicate lace.

I am the bridge where two worlds converge,

A testament to the American beat.

With each step, I reclaim my place,

In a country built on dreams, on every race.

My blood carries the weight of a complex past,

But I walk with hope, towards a lasting peace.

So let them try to fit me in a box so small,

For I am the embodiment of America’s call.

In my veins flows the essence of this land,

Strength in diversity, together we stand.

And though their labels may cut and sting,

I rise above, for I am everything.

Black and white, but more than skin,

A soul that fights, a heart within.

In the end, I find my peace,

A fusion of love, where divisions cease.

For in this journey, I’ve come to see,

The beauty of being, simply, uniquely me.