The Seasons Are Over

South of the Track

Borne, yet a boy --- south of the track,
With a rugged nose and skin of black;
Did childish things as children do,
Wore ragged clothes that to me seemed new;
Second-rate books --- I carried on my back;
Due to my birth --- south of the track!
I remembered places I was forbidden to go,
A swimming-pool --- even church or a picture show;
With bold letters --- no colored allowed!
What unfortunate fate had I endowed?
In fear --- I accepted this lawful fact,
I remembered my place --- south of the track!
In my youth, I could not understand,
Where was my place in America’s plan?
With a Constitution of flimsy laws,
Contractual promises full of flaws,
Ambition I had --- but chances I lack;
Because I was born --- south of the track!
As I grew older I went to war,
What then was I fighting for?
A piece of land --- an executive post;
Freedom, my friend --- was denied me most.
But memories returned me to that shack;
Picked up, where I left --- south of the track!
Now, I am old, I have no regret,
Have witnessed a sunrise --- watched it set;
No matter where you are in nature’s game,
Its beauty is there and all the same.
I gathered God’s glories in my opened pack,
And remained in freedom --- south of the track!