Page:I Am the American Negro.pdf/21

Only my dollars know no color line . . . and sometimes even they are banned!"

The forehead of the giant wrinkles in a frown. His eyes open, stare before him . . . his face looks puzzled . . . wonderment . . . incomprehension . . . hesitancy . . . amazement . . . all these expressions pass across his countenance. His voice goes on . . . slowly . . . carefully.

"Yet I cannot hate America for this land sprouts out of my bleached bones from Bunker Hill to St. Michel and in my veins flows the blood of these my brother races.But I cannot love America for my back is sore from the welts of prejudice rubbed with the salt of segregation.Lord, what shall I do?"

Beside the giant there suddenly appears a form neither male nor female, neither black or white. It wears tattered clothing and holds its body with stately majesty. The newcomer speaks. The giant turns his head to listen. Fear passes first across his face . . . then as the newcomer goes on in a satin-soft voice the low hum of a mighty choir is heard in the distance . . . the sound gains momentum . . . the music can now be heard quite distinctly . . . yet the satin-soft voice of the speaker is heard above it all . . .

Choir

"Come on Black man