I really don’t get it When liars get mad at being lied to Bending truth like a pretzel But cry “foul” when others tried too I’m totally confused By cheaters who hate a cheater Their tragedy is a comedy All of the drama but no theater I have no time for manipulators Who hate being controlled I’m past your passive aggression You can’t imagine the heavy toll And polite people are perplexing I’d rather be kind than nice Don’t tell me what you think I want to hear Because in time there is a price And the “Holier than thou”, Who are you trying to convince? God sees your thoughts and so do I So you can cut it with pretense And I can’t forget emotional martyrs Who find joy every time they suffer Feeling good is like a full assault From which they always have a buffer Then there’s the guilty for feeling guilty The ashamed of feeling shame The people who say “I’m bored” so much You’d think it was their name There’re those who give advice They never seem to take And the ones who always “keep it real” By being really fake Every kind of reactive being Whose heads are such a mess But act like they have the whole thing down But when confronted won’t confess I can’t tell if they’re pretending Or if they know not what they do All I know is if I’m “too direct” They say “Something‘s wrong with you” If I say exactly what I mean They ask “What do you mean by that?” If I actually answer what they have asked They say, “You’re too serious with all your facts.” If I have no opinion on certain things Because I have never explored them They proclaim “experience-less expertise” But are offended if I ignore them They get angry if I talk calmly Saying, “You don’t have any feelings.” Little things can throw them off They want my thoughts while they’re concealing They are killers afraid of dying Committing murder with their mouths Always seeking clemency But won’t give benefit of the doubt And yet, I’m the one they call divergent Because I’m slow to pick up norms Discovering life as it shows up Instead of aiming to conform It’s enough to make me crazy But I’m not trying to be neurotic I refuse to believe it’s normalcy To use emotions like narcotics However this is what I witness In the way that folks react Feeling their way through unseen worlds Then crashing like trains that go off track But when confronted about their behavior They cry and say, “I didn’t mean it.” It’s like having your cake and eating it too Now isn’t that convenient?
In an ocean of sound I lose myself In the cacophony of my Silence My mind is lost among the many more And it feels like I’ll never find it I’ve been me so long that I was convinced That my reality can’t be threatened But all this noise has choked my joys Making the Voice inside seem deafened I forgot what it was I was thinking When your words invaded my space Now whatever it was has slipped my mind And I have completely lost my place I know many people are fine with this They accept the status quo “Don’t question the narrative written for you Because that’s the way it goes” But for as long as I can remember I’ve just been the way that I’m created Seeing only the good in all I can So that my soul is elevated Of course at times I do get tempted These illusions can be convincing People weaving temporal spells With the words that they are mincing I start wondering if I’m too stubborn Maybe I should play the role Let the conformers off the hook And do what I am told Then suddenly it hits me I have no right to disappear Being me is all I can be It’s the very reason why I’m here
What if bullets are just proxy tears For people afraid of crying Expressing emotions they can’t control That result in other people dying What if bombs are actually heart attacks Of those too tender to unload That finally when it all comes out They cause a radius to explode What if nukes are really suicide For people scared to die Who threaten to destroy the entire world Rather than face what they can’t hide That they’re secure in insecurity Spreading the virus of toxic shame Because they’re drowning within finitudes Of all they stole to gain
Image by 愚木混株 on Unsplash.com
Caveat: I know that this line of questioning and poetry may bother some people. That is not my intent. If you know me, you can trust me on that. And check in if it is really charging you. If you don’t, I hope you have a support system that can serve you.
I’m weak And I’m not afraid to admit it And in this I find my strength Though many will not get it I’m broken In all the right places Accepting what is Gives me the power to truly face this I’m ignorant I don’t know what the deal is Which gives me the eyes to see The reality of what real is I’m helpless I can do nothing on my own Which is why I ask for help From the One who is my Home So, I’m hopeful That I will wake while we are dreaming Seeing in the dark To the essence of our being
For 28 days More people pay attention To stories less told Or that hardly get mentioned Some get repeated Just as before About bridges and buses And who’s here no more For 28 days We acknowledge the challenge That healing can’t happen If we ignore the damage And for 28 days We try to do better By telling ourselves That we’re in this together But on the 29th day Or on a leap year it’s thirty Some forget once again And stop getting hands dirty Then for 337 days Their memories fade Until a tragedy happens And we go into rage Then we’re back to day one Wondering how did this happen Repeating the stories We’re perpetually trapped in
I am broken. And finally, it all makes sense. Everything breaks. Everything breaks. And all of the world’s suffering comes from the denial that There is nothing in this world– Seen or unseen– That is going to remain unbroken. Even our systems will break. Our religions are breaking. The Earth is breaking. Rocks break. Grains of sand break. We break atoms and release cataclysmic levels of energy. And we use that power to make bombs That cause explosions that break everything within a certain radius. And what the bombs don’t break in body, they break in spirit. Because they are a reminder that everything breaks. And there is nothing I can do to stop it. There is nothing that any of us can do to stop it. And it is driving us mad.
In our denial, we create broken systems, use weapons, and create endless entertainment–sometimes called “programming”–all meant to distract us from one of two truths that we all have in common– If you choose to be born, you will be broken repeatedly by this life Until you cannot break anymore. And when you break for the last time, you may wonder Where did the breaking world go? Will the things I left behind just keep breaking until they are where I am? Nowhere. Now Here. Nowhere else. Yes, they will. Everything you worked for or didn’t work for, Everything you stole and everything you kept from others, Everything you took credit for as if you were the fount of Creation, It will break. And it will no longer matter. If it ever did. And at some point, everyone who ever was will be completely broken. And then the earth will break. And then the Sun will break. And then the solar system will break. And then the galaxy. And then the Universe. And then whatever contains the Universe. It all broke. It dissolves. It will all go away as if it had never been. And all that will remain is the Love that fought the losing battle to prove that each of us is worth the effort even though we’re breaking. Even though we are broken. Love breaks but can’t be broken. Is everywhere and nowhere. Creates and destroys. But can’t be created or destroyed. Energizes but is not energized. It is what it is before we are what we are. And love will remain when we are no more. Realizing this, let me love love while I can. Let me live love while I am here. Or better yet, let love live me. So that even as I am breaking, love pours through. I guess that was what he was teaching When he said, “I am broken for you.” I am broken and I am breaking. When I accept it suffering ends. And only Love remains.
“How on earth are you hoping right now?” I really want to quit. No more coping right now? My demons got demons. No more glowing light now. I have become my own shadow. Whys consuming my how. We’ve all heard the stories Of who we’re supposed to be But I wrote my own story When yours was opposed to me Became a default leader They’re drawing close to me Now my failures are their failures Supposedly. When I’m not “myself”, No one knows it me. Hiding in plain sight Until you let go of me. This is the burden That none of us has asked for But if one falls from grace We’re all put on blast for They say we credit our race Or we bring them down Then when “I’m” not there I am finally found
Almost every Black person I know who has grown up in America knows what it’s like to feel the existential burden placed upon us that says, “You represent your entire race.” I remember getting in a conversation with a military buddy who happens to be White about this a couple of decades ago. He was honest enough to admit that he had observed this too. And being a straight forward man and not very politically correct, he indignantly said, “Dang man that’s messed up. It’s not like I have to think about how every serial killer makes me look. And you know most of the serial killers are some crazy White guy.”
Because we are good friends, we could have an irreverent laugh about the absurdity of it all. And in the context of our friendship, he and I have dismantled most of that systemic garbage so that it isn’t between us. But, at the same time, things like what went down between Will Smith and Chris Rock shows that the larger culture is still entangled in this tendency to place the burden of all of us on everyone of us. Even many of us Black folks are wrestling with this, calling the incident “Black on Black” crime, because we have been enculturated into this mindset and don’t think of questioning the culture that create such misnomers and agreeing that what happened puts Black people back instead of just the person who made the decision.
As someone who has wrestled with this burden most of my own life, while always questioning its validity ever since a teacher told me I was a “credit to my race”, I can say this is unfair and needs to be deconstructed. When my teacher said it to me, I let him know that I didn’t take it as a compliment even though I knew that was how he meant it. It hurt his feelings. But not as much as him essentially saying to me, “Your race is so messed up, they are lucky to have you.”
If you are someone who doesn’t have the social obligation to represent your entire community to the world, I invite you to meditate on that for a moment. What does it feel like to think that the next thing some one from your group does that is unwelcomed reflects on you directly? Imagine someone coming up to you at your job and asking you, why someone did something as if you all have some kind of group telepathy. That’s what a large segment of society is asking of us everyday. So, if you want to lighten that burden, don’t participate in this tendency. Be part of a better way. Get to know people as individuals. Listen to and share personal stories from folks who differ from you. And don’t rely on biases to determine your relational capacity.
You can also listen to this poem on Pedro’s Poetry Podcast wherever you listen to podcasts.
You’re about to die for the cause you believed in, But you can’t decide if it’s an honor or a tragedy. As you look into the faces of those who surround you, It is difficult to remember who is friend or foe. Didn’t you see this coming? You know it could’ve been avoided But the momentum was too strong It’s kind of like being caught in an undertow. You were tired anyway So, tempted by the thought of rest, you surrendered. But as the light fades and voices begin to muffle, You start to wonder if you might survive. Wouldn’t that be a story to tell? Something the cause could leverage And seal your message as one with Divine Authority. Because the truth never dies. But, then a metal like taste coming from within Confirms what you know. You are dying. And once you accept that, everything changes. You don’t perceive the way you used to. Eyes are everywhere. Ears are everywhere. Taste and touch are everywhere. And you see everything as it is. As if you are on the inside and the outside of everything, There are no distinctions between your inhalations and exhalations. And then everything stops but your consciousness. You wonder how you’re here and nowhere at once. And then you rise and expand at the same time Like a balloon floating upward as it’s being filled. Are there limits to your expansion Or the heights that you might go? Living this question is what made you who you were. It was why you said what you said. It was why you did what you did. And it got you killed. Or did it give birth to the reality of who you are— Who we all are and who we could be? And then you stop expanding Is this finally the end? Or is it the beginning? It is both. It is neither. And when your last breath is as pure as your first, In returns to in and out returns to out Then, an existential popping sound. It reverberates throughout all of Creation. Now you have a choice. Give birth to the you who will die for what you will believe in, Change your mind and hold your breath, Or live as the You who cannot die? And then you remember why you decided what you will decide. Whoever saves their life will lose it. But whoever loses their life will find true Life. This is the cup that was passed to you. This is the cup you drank from. This is when you decide that no one can take your life. You will give it freely. And so you descend. And so you contract. Time collapses. And you remember why you will choose to come here. You will not die for a lie. You will live what is eternally true No matter how many times it takes To be truly born again.
I can’t stop thinking about Chadwick Boseman. He’s been on my mind so much that I caught myself shaking my head in the gym on the edge of tears. Now if you know me, you know that this isn’t characteristic of me. So, I had to examine why I was taking this so hard. Even before he died, I would find myself googling about his health. Like many people, I saw him getting thinner and would find myself concerned about him. I too hoped that the weight loss was due to him thinning up for a movie role. It had been announced, around the time that he started coming into public noticeably thinner, that he was going to play the first and only Black Samurai, Yasuke, who served under Japanese warlord Oda Nobunaga in 16th century Japan. Once again, he was going to take on the role of one of the “First Blacks to…” just as he had with James Brown, Thurgood Marshall, and Jackie Robinson. So I hoped that his gaunt appearance was going to reveal itself to be indicative of his passion for his craft and the calling on his life to bring powerful characters into the consciousness of people who for so long had very few symbols to hold on to.
Thank you for being a King in this life—for challenging our imaginations and giving us an aspirational symbol. I know many people will think that you were “just an actor”. But for those of us who never grew up with superheroes who looked like us and saw ourselves portrayed in a negative light, you made an indelible mark and shined eternally bright. #restinwakandaforever
My Instagram post August 30, 2020
I don’t say this much out loud. But I often feel lonely. Part of this loneliness comes from the fact that I don’t have many living role models before me who can relate to my background or life’s experiences. Everyday, I try, in my small way, to live up to an ideal that I have never actually witnessed being displayed up close. And I do it knowing that I live in a world that, whether people will admit it or not, is always waiting for me to fail. And not just me. If I extrapolate from the conversations I’ve had over my lifetime, almost everyone who is veiled in Black skin in this country carries this burden either consciously or unconsciously. Though many people are in denial about it, if you’re paying attention as a Black person, you know. And others know it too. If we fail, we take so many other people down with us. Because to be Black here is to be a symbol. And as a symbol, you always represent much more than yourself. Whereas, if some other people fail, they are simply seen as an individual–often deserving of second, third, fourth, and fifth chances.
When you are a symbol, society tries to make you an exception when you achieve in any capacity simply because the underlying belief is that most of us are incapable of meeting the illusory standards of this country. That’s why I think our ascendance, however small, is watched very closely. I believe that this is because, every step that any of us climbs, undoes the structure of the painfully comfortable false narrative that was built upon the foundation of our supposed inferiority. In other words, when Black people do well, especially in arenas where we are not always lauded, it tears at the fabric of this nation’s institutional myth about the capacities of American Blackness that almost everyone has bought into–even many Black folks. What if we were always this talented; this intelligent; this powerful? What does that say about how our ancestors were treated? What does it say about those of us who succumbed to the lies told about us? Does the past become even more tragic if we consider that we all had Wakandan like potential that was virtually strangled out of us for centuries? The questions are almost too much to contemplate.
By simply being who he was and living into his moment, Chadwick embodied that potential. His nature was regal. And in his person he carried the spirits of many of our ancestors. Perhaps that is why he was called here to embody them for us in the enduring form of film. He showed us our past and our future. He changed our world. And then he left.
In my work, I have seen many people die. I have watched as the light leaves their bodies and often wondered if they illumined every place they came here to shine in. I suspect that most haven’t. And that’s why there is not a day that goes by that I don’t think about when my day will come. But I am not afraid of death. Ever since I became aware of the expectation that, as a Black Man in America, I would either die or spend some time in the criminal justice system by 18, I have contemplated my death. So no, I am not afraid of death at all. What gets to me is the idea that I will not do all that I can with this life because I will have allowed myself to be overly weighed down by the loneliness of being the first or the only. As they say, I don’t want to die with my music still in me. I want to truly live while I am here. And the truth is that I can’t say that I’ve done that yet. So perhaps that is part of why I can’t stop thinking about Chadwick Boseman.
Consider what he accomplished in the 4 years that he was diagnosed and being treated for colon cancer. Can you imagine? And consider that he did all of this while keeping his diagnosis to himself. Talk about lonely. But I don’t think he kept it to himself for himself. I think he did it for all us who know what it’s like to be the first or the only. In a consumer driven world where illness is seen as just another failure, he commanded his body and the world it inhabited to conform to his ideal. And in so doing, he tore that mythical fabric of Black inferiority that much more.
Of course, it is sad that he was not able to share his struggles with the world and receive the wellspring of compassion that he would have likely received and perhaps lived longer. But he was Black before he was The Black Panther. So I can imagine that he didn’t think he would get a second chance. So he did everything he could with the chance he got knowing that just like when one of us goes down we inadvertently take others with us, when we ascend, we take others with us as well. And that’s why I can say unequivocally that though this man had no earthly crown, he was and always will be a king. And at least for me, his being brings about a sense of conviction that before I die, I must make contact with my own regality and do everything I can to encourage it in others.
A Poem Fit for a King (In Memory of Chadwick Boseman) I’ll see you on the Other Side But I still can see you now In the ways you changed the atmosphere And by your essence you showed us how
We can’t believe that you are gone And yet you’re here now more than ever Giving form to a future and a past We salute you now and forever
Now that your form is no longer with us We see the burden that was in your eyes You held the Space just long enough To show that One who is Living never dies
Someday we all will meet you In the azure canopied ancestral plains Where everyone is a queen and king In the Place where Spirit reigns.
It's All In Me - Poetry Blog 