Friday, July 24, 2015

A Letter of Hope

I struggled to find the words to set up this letter. I hope you read this with an open heart and mind and you share it with someone. As always thank for reading. Comments are welcome.

Dear Sandra Bland,

      I've never done this before. I'm sorry, you didn't deserve this, I shouldn't have to get to know you like this. Just like I shouldn't have gotten to know Trayvon Martin or Mike Brown or Jonathan Ferrell or Tamir Rice or Eric Garner or Oscar Grant or Yvette Smith or Melissa Williams and Timothy Russell or Rekia Boyd and so many others like this, but Pac said smile through the bullshit so I'm going to smile. It's nice to finally meet you, I've heard so much about you, about all of you and so you all know we know what they say is bullshit. They said you didn't signal right, he was a punk and they always get away. He tried to grab the gun, he needed help but was in the wrong neighborhood for that. He was a kid being a kid playing with a BB gun, I did it too. He couldn't breathe or was selling illegal cigarettes. He was fighting on a train. They said she had a gun but she didn't, they led cops on a high speed chase, she was shot in the back of the head while hanging with friends. isn't that how they like to see us though, hanging with friends.

  You all deserved better. You all deserved to see a new day, deserved to know your lives matter. And I'm not saying you're perfect, none of us are but I didn't want to have to meet you this way. I'd rather meet you like you meet a distant relative at a family reunion, you know the one on your mommas, daddy's sister's brother's cousin side. Or that cousin who been gone too long that came back to town with stories that probably aren't true. That crazy uncle who always has money to give and a story to tell. That cousin you haven't seen since y'all were kids but you pick up right where you left off back then. Or That great aunt who always brings the sweet potato pie and you don't know the secret ingredient but she says it's love and you believe her because that's what it tastes like. Yeah that's how we should have met.

We should have met discussing your dreams, your aspirations like yeah, Sandra wants to be a doctor or a civil rights activist or a chef or whatever you wanted to be, you discussed it with such a passion that we could feel it in your soul. I wish I didn't have to know your names or I wish I knew your names because you were a CEO of a fortune 500 company or an architect or an engineer just something, anything where your heart still beats, where your dreams are still yours and not floating in the wind with your spirits.

   But instead, we're here with questions like what happened why is it still happening, when is it enough? Having to defend saying black lives matter because the majority can't see or refuse to see the assault on black lives. All they say is what about black on black crime or what about Chicago and Baltimore. They don't even realize we know those lives matter too, we know all lives matter and we'd rather not have to use the hash tag, but we refuse to let this be swept under the rug or placed in the back of the closet where America likes to keep the mirror it hates to look in.

But I'm getting off topic, it's not about them or me, it's about you and everyone like you who didn't get the chance to shine, to change, to grow, to inspire, to live, to learn from mistakes, to get justice, to see their day in court, to choose who they would become, to be a human being.

 It was nice to have met you though your time was short-lived and I barely know your name.

Hope for the future

Friday, August 29, 2014

A Series of (mostly) Unrelated Questions

Hello there,

Long time no post. I've been on my slacking game really hard lately but its about high time that I step up and post some things for those of you who still take the time to check on my page. I appreciate it and I appreciate you. This piece came from a question I had that formulated other questions and I just decided to go with it. I got the idea from a poem I heard Mr. Ed Mabrey do a similar poem and I tried to do something similar. So here goes nothing, as always thanks for reading and feedback is always welcome.

What do we mean when we say we want people to be happy?
Why don't we say what we mean?
What is it about some people that sticks to our spirit so long?
Who am I to stand in the way of love? Why does my heart hurt?
Is it medical? Is it mental?
When did it all get so complex?
Where's your head at?
How come its easier to write the things I'm thinking rather than to say them?
Am I afraid of the answer? Do I already know the answer?
What's the point? Can we make it? Do you want to make it?
Am I keeping you from experiencing the love of your life?
If life is ever-changing can we really have a single love our lives?
Where is this going?
Is this a poem?
Is this what I deserve?
Where do I fit in?
Is it enough? Am I enough?
What do I want to know?
Do you ever fall after you've taken a leap of faith?
Where is my faith?
Why do we only want people to be happy when it benefits us?
Are we needy?
Do we really want happiness for them? For ourselves?
What is happiness anyway? Is it overrated?
Do we under rate our ability to be amazing?
Where are the words?
Is it ever truly over? Can we start over?
Is there a beginning and an ending, or are there only hello's and until laters?
Am I projecting? How does it feel when I say I believe in you?
Do you believe in yourself?
What am I believing?
Are we still saving the prettiest lies?
What are we saving them for? Who are we saving them for?
Is admitting defeat the same as losing?
Is grace defined by humility?
Does this sound like music because it feels like music?
Is this freedom I'm feeling?
Is freedom only defined by what you can or can't do or is it more?
If I feel it, is it real?
When do I listen to my soul?
Am I making sense?
Do I inspire you? Do I aspire you to?
Does this type of insecurity go away?
I can't hide it anymore, can you hold it for a while?
Why do some people stay in our hearts and others don't?
What is forever?
How do I find it?
What am I avoiding?
Is it the answer?
Why does my heart hurt?
Do we hurt on purpose?
Do we live on purpose?
Do we love on purpose?
When we hurt why does the lesson never seem important in the moment?
What do you like?
Do you know I always think of you?
Do you think?
Do you think the truth is helpful?
Why did I go back?
Is there an undo button? Is there an unsee option?
Is imitation really flattery in its greatest form?
Do we just want to feel better?
What do we feel bad about?
Am I just a copy?
Am I an individual?
When will the words end?
Where have you been all my life?
Is my life over?
Did I end your life?
Do I make you happy?
Do I make me happy?
Why do we base happiness on other people?
Isn't that too much for them to bare?
Why do we bear the weight of our world?
Shouldn't we ask for help?
Don't we already have help?
Why is my heart still hurting?
Hasn't it hurt enough?
Am I the one hurting it?
Will it ever get better?
Does it heal itself?
What is self?
How do we know when we found it?
Will we look different?
Will we act different?
What difference does it make anyway?
Does it matter?
Do you matter?
Isn't it all matter?

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Thanks for stopping by and checking me out.

Peace J