“Lessons We Learn” is part of the collection Lead Me to Life: Voices of the African Diaspora. Read the introduction to the collection here.
The past flashes
like forty-one winters.
Just yesterday, I was hoisted
onto dad’s shoulders
then paraded around the fairground,
and for the only time in my life,
I was taller than everybody.
Soon, I’d have to learn how to walk alone
but Black sons garner
from Black fathers
the reality of what it is to chaperone—
because they will never
let you forget how Black you are
that seasons for us are shorter
and so, like an heirloom,
we keep lessons close to the heart
While bobbing, hovering over the crowd,
dad pointed to a bird in the sky and said,
“You will never be a bird,
but that doesn’t mean you cannot fly.”
They say that Black is the absence of light,
is an abyss of nothingness.
But they are wrong.
It is from darkness that light
derives its value, and like birds
ascending to the blue openness,
they are named by those that watch
and yet still do what comes naturally.