Contact (A Poem)




The child's eyes


Look up into his weathered face.

Into his lap she climbs,


And curious

And innocent

She asks


Are you that colour all over?"

He reaches

He takes her small, pale hand in his,

Then turns his over

Shows her his palm.

"Yes, I am,"

His serious response

"Except for the palms of my hands,

And the place where the sun don't shine."


Says the child,

Looking up again

Into his dark brown face

And then at her small hand in his.

White on black.

Hands touch.

Minds touch.

Man and child go separate ways.

And child



Never forgets that black on white

The different and the same.

Never forgets the lesson learnt

That difference...

Is skin deep.


My parents were extremely open-minded people who treated everyone the same regardless of little details like skin color or sexuality.

This one is for Obadiah, wherever he may be now.

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Comments 3 comments

Vinaya Ghimire profile image

Vinaya Ghimire 5 years ago from Nepal

You have blended message with your composition. We must not hate someone because of their race, color, sex, faith and such more.

I loved the descriptions, Obadiah is just standing before me.

Cresentmoon2007 profile image

Cresentmoon2007 5 years ago from Caledonia, MI

Wonderful message here with a greatly well written poem. I absolutely loved it. Voted up.

profile image

Charles Hilton 4 years ago

A beautiful, creative way to relate an important message. Well done!

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