“Who am I”?
The question rages through the generations
Through the ache of lost identity
Where the mirror can’t affirm us
And all we are is defined by the horror we’ve been through
Even our own hearts at such a loss
we sell our soul to public opinion
acceptance and approval.
What have we become?
Not ourselves for sure
Not our own, or owned by us
into slavery to the “oughts” and the “shoulds”
to the “have’s” and the “have nots”
We’ve become our own enemy
Siding with them
seeing ourselves through the eyes of the takers
the rapers, those who murder with their disapproval
The weak of us, who are always the best of us
Those who mourn
who know how to comfort
those who are meek
who know how to lift another
out of despair b/c they’ve been there
or worse, been put there.
What shall we say?
Shall we speak
Or remain silent to this broken place in our world
Or maybe grab our picket sign
and shout obscenities in the name of God?
the worst, in my opinion!
What then shall we do?
I say we stop speaking with hardened hearts
and start sharing our bread with the broken
those who are wasted with the abuse of others
who have no strength left
to defend themselves
to lift themselves
who can’t pay us
pat us, or put us in a position
who can’t give us reputation but rather
will cause us to be spoken against
I say those are the ones who are the best of us
who know they are broken
and don’t pretend
with the pretenders
who don’t slight with the slighters
who just are
they just are
It’s time to rise up to the lowest place
of slave and servant of all
That, my friend is who we are!!