By Jake Whitaker
I'm waiting for the day, when I can look at their faces
And see people from all lives, from all different races
And I can call them all friends, all of us brothers
Even though we look different, and have separate mothers
The same heart lies within, same blood flows through us
Their hair might be different, skin might be darker
Someday, though, I know, that won't matter any longer
Until then I'm waiting for the day when I can look at their faces
And see not people, but brothers, from all different races
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From Grave Cavalieri, the Washington Independent Review of Books
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Feature Poet: Gertrude Stein
American Modernist Writer