Diaspora (or "Those Whom We Know as Negroes")

I know you even though I don’t know your name

You are my mother, my sister, my auntie, my friend 

When I rise, I rise up on your shoulders 

When I fall, I am healed by your touch

I see you even though I don’t know your face 

You are my father, my brother, my uncle, my friend 

When you smile, the sun breaks forth in my soul

When you weep, I am broken by the burdens you bear 

I hear you even though I don’t know your voice 

You are my kinsman, my tribe, my clan, my home 

When I am lost, I find direction from your ancient wisdom

When I step forward, I build on the path you prepared 

I understand you even though I don’t know your tongue 

You are the voice of my past echoing into my future

When I feel unworthy, I am bolstered by the legacy of your sacrifice

When I feel proud, I am grateful that I bring honor to your name

I love you even though I have never met you

You are the blood in my veins and the drumbeat in my heart 

When I feel weary, I am rejuvenated by your inexplicable joy

When I feel strong, it is because you have given me strength.