Born too early (preceding, far preceding, as we humans measure time, enlightened acceptance):
his skin too dark,
his heritage, mixed, with hair too straight,
to be accepted anywhere,
at any time.
His mind, mathematically agile,
yet with none, neither family nor friend
to encourage his exploring, his becoming,
his dream to share real time and space with this Queen of the Sciences –
so, hand in hand to gambol through the fertile fields of myriad patterns
in search of the ripened grains of conjecture, the succulent fruits of proof –
a vapor evaporating at the break of every day.
Then, as a soldier in that war of worlds, numbered 2,
sent half-way ‘round the world to the Philippines,
there, tho’ fighting for America,
to be reminded of what he already had learnt at home:
the discrimination of segregation
Tears red he cried,
he bled with blinding rage
and daily drank his bitterness
to drown his unsinkable anguish.
Peace he neither entered
nor could render (to anyone)
in this life.
I feel, I fear he hath found it only in death.
So, daily, do I pray that what he may hath found
(for how can I know?)
aye, is true.