To you I have never existed But here I am just the same Being who I know I am Though called by another name A screen for your projections You see me as you are And if I dare to set the record straight You say that you’re the one with scars But from the very beginning You have tried to tell our story But I refuse to read your script You can deny but can’t ignore me Because the day I was unborn Was the day I began emerging Knowing myself as I am known Moved on by the Spirit’s urging Let’s call it a role reversal By returning I’m going faster Undoing what could never be Until Love’s the only master
What will you say,
If you found out that they got me?
Knee to the neck
Or they shot me?
You knew me;
Now you forgot me?
What will you say?
“I thought he was so different.”?
“He shouldn’t have been on that hit list.”?
“There will be justice.
God is my witness”?
“I swear I’ll never forget this.”?
What would you say,
If I told you this was my family?
When they’re damning them,
Then they damn me.
Saying where we can
And we can’t be.
From the beginning,
I know that they stamped me.
What would you say,
If I told you daily I’m dying?
That this is the world that I’m in.
They want your soul,
For a buy in.
The Truth hurts,
When they’re lying.
What would you say
If George Floyd
Was suddenly me?
It was Pedro under that knee?
Let’s pray one day we don’t see.
Whenever my two year old cries for me not to leave her as I walk out the door, I wonder if somehow she knows that this might be the last she sees me–that I might make a mistake and run a red light or go to the store or go for a walk on the trail just outside our neighborhood and never come back. Then immediately after thinking those thoughts, I rebuke them. I tell myself that it is not fair for me to project my anxieties onto my toddler. I remind myself that I have a family, a ministry, and a life that matters. I tell myself that I cannot let these ideas that I live with like a permanent limp, dictate how I live. So I pray, get up, and go about the business of living. And then…
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Check out Stamped From the Beginning by Ibram X. Kendi
It's All In Me - Poetry Blog 