Chemicals

I misinterpret what you mean,

I cannot quite decipher words,

Your voice is sweet, your love is pure,

But who is all this pure love for?

I’d wait for you,

I do not know why I yearn. 

Why I sing like a mourning dove on a wire, 

crying softly for her lover to come. 

Why I droop like the willow, 

her leaves hanging down by the pond, 

"An older, African American leader that I respected highly told me I had to make a choice: be a part of the world of the lynchers or join the Other America"

-Anne Braden