With my Number 2 pencil
I take notes
on our history,
the American Dream,
of those who came to our country
seeking a better life,
religious freedom,
to be a city on the hill
and I don’t hear
about those who were
already here,
or those who came in shackles
longing for any freedom.

With my number 2 pencil
I take notes
on our arts
the great writers, painters, and musicians
who have given us such great legacies.
Were they all white European men
because everyone else
was too oppressed
to create
or simply because
that’s all the writers
of our histories
managed to see?

With my number 2 pencil
I fill in the ovals
on standardized tests
that will be used
to appoint my place
in society,
and I long for God’s law
when we shall know the Lord
and be God’s people.

(Note: This poem was written in 2016 and presented at a Poetry Sunday, but was not posted on the blog until 2017. There are a few poems like this I hope to catch up on.)