That Voice

Poem written by 11 year old Arya Subramanian in honour of Black History month

Today, I sit and wait by the lone counter
That lone counter where everyone waits
For that lunch that never comes

They say it’s better now
Our backs don’t break from the ugly work
We aren’t torn from our homeland
But really it isn’t
Our hearts break from this ugly world
And sometimes I just want to go back to my homeland

As I stand and wait under that big, hot sun
For that bus that we have to sit in the back of
That bus that never comes for people like us

They say it’s better now
Where we have real homes
And the children aren’t torn away
But really it isn’t
We aren’t allowed to have those homes
And all the children cry each day
Because if America is a harmony
Then where is my voice?

At least, for each day
There’s a tomorrow
There’s a happiness
Where there’s a sorrow

There’s that hope
Laced in despair
That music
Clear through the air
There’s a voice
Where there’s quiet
And if it fails
I still tried it