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Sonnet for Rosetta

So proud, dear cousin, you were a Burton;
Sagacious, you changed; anew, a LeNoire.

You countered, embraced, a life of hurtin';
Like Joan of Arc, you battled in a war

As actor, as sage, as patient teacher.
The burning wrongs, to young eyes, a pity;

Your home, Hell's Kitchen: an angry preacher
For an innocent soul, in New York City.

Your mother, she died on a dirty floor--
Such anguish. Paltry words, with such a punch:

A hospital, Harlem, no blacks past the door.
Biting words, yours: Darkest raisin in the bunch.

But you broke the color bar, this: your berth
said The New York Times, when you left this earth.