Son Of Mine

To Denis

My son, your troubled eyes search mine, Puzzled and hurt by colour line. Your black skin as soft as velvet shine; What can I tell you, son of mine? I could tell you of heartbreak, hatred blind, I could tell you of crimes that shame mankind, Of brutal wrong and deeds malign, Of rape and murder, son of mine; But I'll tell you instead of brave and fine When lives of black and white entwine, And men in brotherhood combine-- This would I tell you, son of mine.