Ode To My People
Rationality is me seeing what I see
and not saying otherwise.
To say is to be brave;
for to say is to admit that you are not happy
in a system where the meter of your happiness provides true indication of belovedness.
This is the system of my heritage and it demands Truth or belovedness, but finds their coexistence to be
a confounding impossiblity.
If this system is true
then I am unloved and unhappy,
(though I often feel both loved and happy)
because this is what I see and must speak:
Dehumanizing declarations made at Thanksgiving and families move yet further away from unity
Original land owners herded like cattle and eighteen year olds commit suicide on the eve of high school graduation
Women with ebony eyes disappear along with elephants and no one says if either one is important
New neighbors forced into corners of lives spent with hands red and bruised from tearing frozen
Little feet and necks swell with flesh and with every click Coca-Cola makes millions
Men have bad dreams of the children they killed beneath a red flag
Ebenezer Scrooge lives in privileged pockets, sewn with the blood of Taiwanese factory workers,
just $7.99 at Old Navy
The final chapter of the Biology textbook goes untaught and lives of girls without options
grind to a halt
Twelve year olds are hustled across state borders like sacks of cocaine
Girls are touched in taxis and under tablecloths
Boys get shot in the street
Candy wrappers fly out of open windows and choke sea turtles
Concrete eats the grass
Earth´s belly heats up and casts religious people out of their homelands
Ice melts and Santa Claus will show up soon; a wintery work shop disrobed by our insistence on a 66 degree house year around
Regions suitable for cultivating vineyards move from North to South and still the planet is unchanging;
She is wrong about her own health
Irrationality is expecting the blind to see
the way I see.
Sight is a gift:
a gift that weighs on souls,
shaking the burden too long left on the shoulders of the beloved Underdog:
firstborn of the Christ.
This is the system of my heritage and it demands Truth or belovedness; but I dance
in their coexistence.
Truth is, I find myself beloved.
Woe to you!….For you load people with burdens hard to bear, and you yourselves do not touch the burdens with one of your fingers. (Luke 11:46)
Woe to you who are rich, for you have received your consolation. Woe to you who are full now, for you shall be hungry. Woe to you who laugh now, for you shall mourn and weep. Woe to you, when all people speak well of you, for so their fathers did to the prophets. (Luke 6:24-26)
Every valley shall be filled, and every mountain and hill shall be made low, and the crooked shall become straight, and the rough places shall become level ways. (Luke 3:5)