A White Man’s Struggle

I spoke of this in my classroom today,

it didn’t make sense,

I still haven’t figured out a way,

to not seem utterly dense.

I’m a White man trying to be understanding,

yet every time I try

I end up again, landing

square upon my own ignorance and cry.

I’m a White man rocked with privilege,

and I still manage to find a way

to put myself out on a ledge,

bringing attention to my own self-righteous dismay.

It’s Black History Month,

a friend of mine posted this recently

suggested it is the shortest month

of the year, well he said it decently.

I have felt a lot of pause, trying to find the right word,

not to sound correct, but to clearly feel ok.

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