Girl on a Swing
I saw a girl on a swing in her yard
today, from the bus
It was by the roadside
of a highway
lots of cars whizzing by
Now I have to stop and think
about how you imagined the girl to look like
Could be any number of girls
swinging through your minds
based on who you are
where you come from
or what you know of me
and who I am and where I come from
or where I’ve lived
Let me tell you now
that the girl was black
Now, I know the context matters
but I wish it didn’t
because my first reaction
when I saw her
was to ask myself
should I pity her
because her family can only afford a home by the highway
and she has to swing into all this dust and grease and exhaust
or should I think
“Hey, her family’s doing pretty well for themselves,
they own/live in a house with a yard.”
when the truth is
I don’t want to have to choose
All I really saw
and all I really want to see
is a girl on a swing,
happy.
*Update (Apr 6, 2012): this poem links so well to this article.
