What Prejudice Means to Me: In the Footsteps of a Stranger

This is a poem written in 6th grade. We were all required to write pieces for the Jewish Women's Society contest. Not my best work, and needless to say I didn't win.

 

I walk in the footsteps of a stranger,

His tracks faint from so long ago.

I climb higher.

The colorless ruins of the world lie below me

As I tower now at the top of the mountain peak

Whose name was then “Everest”.

 

I peer down

And see the cause of the destruction

Of the Blue Planet they called home.

One word:

Prejudice.

 

Am I prejudging, perhaps �"

Those humans who,

In their quest for the answer -

“Who is better than all the rest?” �"

Got out of control?

 

I peer down

And look at the remains of a Native American Reservation �"

Far out west �"

On land no one wanted.

They were thousands of miles from their native homes -

Being barely called U.S citizens,

And their old land was replaced by a bank.

 

I peer down

And look at the remains of a concentration camp.

Where people placed others, who weren’t perfect,

Had scars, were of the wrong race, were of the wrong religion,

Away,

Most never to be seen again,

No matter whom they were underneath their appearance.

 

I peer down

And look at the remains of an internment camp

Where people took the Japanese

During the Second World War

Because they thought they were spying.

All of them

Torn away from their homes

And treated like a citizen of no country -

Shunned.

 

I look down

And see many more terrible human wrongdoings.

On their quest lasting from their beginning to their end,

They left behind so many relics,

Some that I can’t describe,

All initiated by the thought of hate.

Then something catches my eye,

In the corner -

Over there.

 

I peer down

And see a battle won.

Hiding behind a piece of trash,

A poster of a woman voting at a booth,

Her pants and short hair just like a man’s.

Her voting slip in hand

And ready to cast the vote that would decide the elections of elections.

 

I peer down

And see a battle won.

A flyer for the Woman’s Soccer World Championships�"

The first one �"

70 years after the men first touched that level of ball.

But still.

Women were given a chance to compete

And win.

 

 

I peer down

And see a battle won

A newspaper reading,

“Obama Reaches the Mountaintop!”

In bold.

A photo of an African American man

Captioned as the first African American president of the U.S.A.

 

I draw back in amazement.

Was I wrong to prejudge?

The humans had the ability to fix themselves,

If they tried their hardest.

Sometimes they did,

But other times not.

 

At the tip of the Mountain Everest,

I think calmly:

If they had just tried �"

Really, really tried with all their knowledge and power �"

They wouldn’t have been a minute too late.

 

Then I climb down that mountain �"

All the way �"

And follow the footsteps of that stranger again.

I think I see a little color -

A sign of the start of the new age.

Author's Note

I don't like it. Your thoughts?

Reviews

[Dalebear]

I like this poem, I got lost in it abit......but a good write

Dalebear