Saw you again
and noticed you’ve learned
We don’t speak to those people.
Wondering how that will work out for you
when you’re the one
rendered invisible.
We don’t speak to our people?
And why not? Because we never were to begin with.
A white man, passing by
also says something friendly to you
and your mother smiles,
laughs,
Visible in his sight
He is visible in her sight
And you are visible for … how long?
Seven years you’ve been learning
that maybe it’s just any man who is threatening
that maybe your people are an uncommon sight
that maybe the person has a social disorder
that maybe you can’t trust
the evidence of your eyes and ears.
Maybe you’ll never speak of this to your mother.
Because you dread the honest question.
The well-meaning, well-intentioned question
that defines us and them
That creates a reality that doesn’t exist.
Resist racism 
“that maybe you can’t trust
the evidence of your eyes and ears.”
i love this line, thanks for sharing your poetry.
This whole situation rips my heart out.
If that’s the price to pay to have a family, how sad.
Commentless…
Maybe, maybe, maybe. . . . maybe there is another explaination for any particular incident. . . . but the weight of *all* the incidents becomes a very strong argument.