For a Black Man at the Grocery Store

               For a Black Man at the Grocery Store

We stand together,

apart,

atvthe grocery store,

reaching out,

black hands, white hands,

for bread.

We all need bread

We look at each other,

blind,

In the aisle,

looking inward,

brown eyes, blue eyes,

silent instead.

We all need bread

Might we sit down,

you and me,

and eat bread together for three days?

Could I bake bread for you,

and you bake bread for me?

Is this our common thread?

We all need bread

Is there a better symbol 

of our common humanity 

than bread? 

When I lived in Mali, 

the bakers rose well before dawn, 

mixing the simplest elements, 

water and flour, 

into dough, 

kneading until ready 

to go into the stone ovens 

heated by wood fires 

to become bread.

When I say my prayers, 

I ask God, 

“Give us this day our daily bread.” 

Is this part of all of the prayers 

of all of the peoples of the world,

to ask for bread?

My great grandpa, whose family name was Baker, 

owned a store in West Greenville 

when that part of town was the city.

He sold goods to people and was good to people 

and the people elected him mayor

and came to him for bread.

I wonder, if a black man walked into the store, 

did my great grandpa know him? 

By family? By name? By handshake? By heart?  

Or did he see him as inferior, as less than human? 

I don’t know, 

for he passed on before I came along to ask.

I do know, however,

unless we are geniuses or fools, 

we become a part of the time and place in which we live, 

and THAT time and place was deeply imbued 

with white supremacy, racism and segregation. 

The geniuses and fools become bread.

We stand apart,

together,

at the grocery store,

reaching out,

black hands, white hands,

for bread.

We all need bread

- Trevor Scott Barton, “The color Green “ July 2022