A White Poet Reflects, a Poem by Vern Fein

I am an older white man who writes poems

about myriad topics—about my first plane trip,

a harrowing flight to see my mother,

a poem about the Beatles,

one about book buying idolatry,

another whimsical one about the moon.

This white man went to an inaugural

celebration of a new Black poet laureate.

He listened to her beautiful lyricism.

She wrote of her life, her people, her history:

racial childhood experiences, fear for black children,

school trauma, civil disobedience, gun violence, water fountains,

police encounters, Black beauty, sexuality, lynchings, sit-ins,

inequality, language, Tulsa, etc. etc. etc., across centuries. 

I marveled at her wonderful poetry.

But a strange question sneaked in.

Was she trapped by her history?

Did that almost totally define her subjects?

Two young black poets followed,

spoke only of their Black lives.

These Black poets wrote mostly of oppression

from slavery through Jim Crow,

Civil Rights, Black Lives Matter,

the exigencies of their current lives

and how every speck of those lives

was affected by their history and culture.

It was not only for now—the history

of Black poetry is rife with

the pain, the courage, the longings,

the faith, the ever-battle.

Ever a choice?

How much freedom do Black poets

have to write of Nature, silliness,

an exciting vacation,

the ill-treatment of animals.

Oh, I know Black poets write on many subjects,

but I’ve never heard that variety at these readings.

None of the poems read that night reflected

on anything but race. In my own poems,

I understood the dimensions of freedom

and what it truly means. I understood

the depths of white privilege.

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A recent octogenarian, Vern Fein, has published over 300 poems and short prose pieces in over 100 different sites. A few are: Gyroscope Review, Young Raven’s Review, Bindweed, *82 Review, River And South, Grey Sparrow Journal, and One Art. His second poetry book—REFLECTION ON DOTS—was released late last year.