When I stand on the earth, the dirt
my ancestors stole from yours, I
might not weep for it is not my hurt.
My family was broken ages ago, and I
do not know my heritage, for I
am White and my culture invisible.
It is obvious to you, perhaps an iron
cage, or bricks stacked circling
institutions like this one here–
where they tell you, come learn.
Come hear about our great fathers
and how they mastered this world.
Now it is all I can do to stand
and cry (y)our tears with you, and
ask my people to confront the truths.