Waxing poetic on thoughts, theory & the times
Benchmarks of my progress
Hooray for me!
Seeming fine to everybody,
And still I worry,
What is sanity when it can slip
So easily?
I’m good, I’m sure,
But how can I be sure?
What if the figurative demons return?
–The ones I was positive
Were exorcized?
Fear of the return is infrequent
But vigilant I remain
Someone needs to be
Watching for the return of
A me I do not want to be
So I go through the motions
The exercise
To keep unisolated my heart and mind
Where do you go, love,
When your words cannot be seen?
Toiling still in life?
–Filling your world with beauty,
In the act of just being
Build up border walls,
Build up greatest show on Earth,
Build up divisions,
Build up, build up, build up while
Infrastructure falls
Listen to the bird song
Listen to the trees
Listen to the butterflies
Polar bear, and honey bee
Listen to the tides,
Listen to the breeze
Listen to the snow and ice,
Listen to the Earth
As she cries for her children,
As she cries for mercy
Listen intently
Listen, listen
Listen and act,
Before we are unable
I want my cake,
And even when it is given,
Even when it is there
I am terrified,
I am guilt ridden,
Craving
To taste,
To eat,
To enjoy it too
Wake up to the realization
That things are often
Not as they seem,
White picket fences
Are redlined
With a much darker history
Dark like burnt cork
Dark like the black night of masked midnight rides,
But also dark, with stars guiding
Like an underground railroad run,
Our history is our history,
We cannot cherry pick the plot,
But we can from our ends figure out how to continue the story
America was always a complex experiment,
A wild unruly flower
Largely grown from blood and tears,
And blood and tears still water her today,
It is how they are shed that
Makes the difference
Mapping a family tree
Going back centuries
Becomes a test of how much truth
One wishes to open up,
It’s a Pandora’s box of past
That leaves us staring face to face at times
With the sins of the mother and father,
Wondering how amends can be made for past wrong,
When guilt is a well that keeps dredging deeper
But our past is our past
And sometimes the good is not,
Even cannot be recorded,
And our past is still ours to handle,
We are living knee deep in it,
still collecting and paying for the past our own eyes may have never seen,
It was not our place to be there,
But rather to be here,
Being actors, witness to the present,
And reflectors on the past
Watchmen for our now,
To ensure better choices,
The best choices may be made to impact the future,
It is all connected,
And it is our responsibility,
As Americans, as world citizens, as humans,
As sentient beings to ensure we are guided wisely,
By not guilt, or raw anger,
But by complex thought
On what to do with the lessons and emotions evoked from the American past,
in this present,
It is all of our past,
It always has been,
Though history has affected all unequally,
It is our past to take on,
Our past as a present to grapple with,
In order to become closer together as a single entity,
As a nation of brothers and sisters,
Who can handle reality,
Who can allocate responsibility,
Who can be the e pluribus unum aspired to,
We are a people of all Nations,
It is remembering that which is the challenge,
And truly realizing that
This is
all of our America
I will be hopeful
But not crush self with expectation,
My determinism here dances
With a deity of patience,
For closeness to the Divine is what is driving,
I will be prudent, remain grounded,
Whatever the result,
For the path is winding and
May lead
The long way around
