The Language of the Poem

We might not be the same tribe
Your skin is “black” I’m “white”
You trusted me I trusted you
We crossed some borderlines

We made a daring journey
You took me to your home
Your family opened arms to me
Believed I must be strong

We built a frame of reference
Our language got refined
Is it really any wonder now
That you can read my mind

Smiling to discover
Happy to announce –
The language of the poem
Is brotherhood after all!

Do you dig my meaning
Do you catch my drift
This is no abstraction
These words are our gift

Singing about you
Singing about me
The words with which we say it
That’s our poetry, baby

Who’d have ever thought it
Who’d have ever guessed
In a world so inarticulate
We’d be communication-blessed

It’s not a revolutionary slogan
Nor religion’s cosmic whole –
The language of the poem
Is brotherhood after all!