Mixed Colors

Silence is what I am about to speak. Who would have thought it would be me to turn the other cheek and keep my mouth closed; I even shut my eyes and with my two fingers in my ears, I could not silence the demise. The statement to bring tree lynching back by Paul Sherrell was noted in Tennessee recently.

I wept and I wanted to keep crying; keep crying until the end of time, watering my decomposed corpse so that new life would spring forth. A new era. A life that does not see color; a life that thrives off the land and grows where it is allowed. I may have said too much or not enough.

You let me know when to shut up because if silence is what I speak, trying to make a message out of this mess, a testimony out of this test. The situation is critical.

I want to cry and keep crying until I can feel like the whole of Niagara Falls is cascading tears insomuch that I could ride the tide, I mean the wave, I mean plunge to my death: no, that is natural. But neither is hanging from a tree!

But the silence that I do not speak, keeping a close watch on what I post – as if making sure that when I leave out the door each day, there is not a single strain of hair out of place, seemingly unbothered, neutral, and liked.

When I woke up… I could not believe that this happened! I felt like I was kept in a cocoon for 44 years. I was oblivious or unnoticing, detached, waking up to a nightmare. People have done things longer than my ancestors for 400 years.  I am so mixed; I want to know who they all are.

I was pointed in a direction – the direction of keeping silent to protect this body, the shell that also embodies the nature spirit of God. Each of us is capable.

Some animals eat each other. We eat each other in different ways! Creeping, stepping, and stomping on each other’s bodies. What is left are sweet bitter remnants.

Sweet bitter remnants of nothing now back to the point of this mixed poetic paragraph.

I wish that I could dig my feet so deep into the ground that my heels become planted, my toes burrow into the dirt and my Roots begin to grow. They grow past where I am planted to the core of the Earth

Yes, I said it! I want my roots to remain; we all do. Everyone talks about the future. Everyone talks about Justice. Rights and wrongs in the stories of people on the news.

What is the truth about humankind? We do not love ourselves because if we loved ourselves, we would not be fighting over color or race and ethnicity.

I am not against pride and who you are!

Well, our pride began to stumble, and then muzzle and later strangle one another.

Shoot shots to kill another that could have been your brother, sister, mother, aunt, or friend… the list goes on but what needs pondering is the real future?

Are we willing to give up our existence for that fight?