James Berry
For Josie (9 years old, who wrote to me saying, "boys called me names because of my color. I felt very upset... My brother and sister are English. I wish I was, then I won't be picked on... How do you like being brown?")
Josie, Josie, I am okay
being brown. I remember,
every day dusk and dawn get born
from the loving of night and light
who work together, like married.
And they would like to say to you:
Be at school on and on, brown Josie,
like thousands and thousands and thousands
of children, who are brown and white
and black and pale-lemon color.
All the time, brown girl Josie is okay.
Josie, Josie, I am okay
being brown. I remember,
every minute sun in the sky
and ground of the earth work together
like married.
And they would like to say to you:
Ride on up a going escalator
like thousands and thousands and thousands
of people, who are brown and white
and black and pale-lemon color.
All the time, brown girl Josie is okay.
Josie, Josie, I am okay
being brown. I remember,
all the time bright-sky and brown-earth
work together, like married
making forests and food and flowers and rain.
And they would like to say to you:
grow and grow brightly, brown girl.
Write and read and play and work.
Ride bus or train or boat or airplane
like thousands and thousands and thousands
of people, who are brown and white
and black and pale-lemon color.
All the time, brown girl Josie is okay.
I read this poem in Poetry Speaks to Children, a gift to Tai from his fabulous Auntie Joan. It's a collection of poetry, much of which is read aloud by the poets on the accompanying CD. (click here for the audio of this very poem.)
Tai actually preferred for me to read the poems to him, so I did. Often. I thought "Okay, Brown Girl, Okay" would be too long and boring for him (he was three or four), but he liked it. And I liked it--it has soft, comforting arms and big, open horizons both at once. And then as I typed it here, I began to like it even more, since in typing it I had time to think about the patterns instead of just noticing them and moving on to the next poem.
being brown. I remember,
all the time bright-sky and brown-earth
work together, like married
making forests and food and flowers and rain.
And they would like to say to you:
grow and grow brightly, brown girl.
Write and read and play and work.
Ride bus or train or boat or airplane
like thousands and thousands and thousands
of people, who are brown and white
and black and pale-lemon color.
All the time, brown girl Josie is okay.
I read this poem in Poetry Speaks to Children, a gift to Tai from his fabulous Auntie Joan. It's a collection of poetry, much of which is read aloud by the poets on the accompanying CD. (click here for the audio of this very poem.)
Tai actually preferred for me to read the poems to him, so I did. Often. I thought "Okay, Brown Girl, Okay" would be too long and boring for him (he was three or four), but he liked it. And I liked it--it has soft, comforting arms and big, open horizons both at once. And then as I typed it here, I began to like it even more, since in typing it I had time to think about the patterns instead of just noticing them and moving on to the next poem.
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