"When I see you bending over something rare
Like music, or a painting, or a book,
And see within your eyes that vacant stare
And halfway understand that pleading look;
I cannot help but bitterly detest
The age and men who made you what you are,
Who robbed you of your all -- your ample best --
And left you seeking life across a hateful bar,
And left you vainly searching for a star
Your soul appreciates but cannot understand."
~Margaret Walker Alexander, "Ex-Slave"
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