#37: My King (Part 1 of 4)

Of all the poems I have written, this one is my favorite. It's on the long side so I broke it down in to four parts. I'll put part 2 up next week and so forth. 

This poem explains how I view Jesus. Although Jesus is King, he is a king that takes action. He does not sit and watch what is going on, he is an active participant. My soul, as gross and ugly as it can get, is fully redeemed because of my king. 

I wrote this poem over the course of two years and it was a lot of fun going back to it. I don't mean to be preachy in any way, but this is my belief and understanding of Christianity and specifically the person of Jesus. It isn't meant to be a proof of his existence, merely a window in to how I view in a thematic sense, who Jesus Christ is.

A Woman Caught in Adultery by Woonbo Kim Ki-chang 

My King (Part 1)

These demons, these monsters they roar in my head

Wanting and wishing for my soul to be dead

Ignited by hatred, revulsion and deceit

To me they are vicious; to the world they’re discreet

I am trapped in this desert, in this pit of despair

I know of no answers, only hopes and prayers

The monsters would hurt, the pain crippling

No joyous moments, no occasions to sing

I wept and cried as I searched in vain

For a way to escape from my wretched pain

I searched up and down inside of myself

But everything I found would be of no help

I was unable to see things with my own two eyes

I could only notice the things I despised

My guilty heart chained me to the ground

As ravenous vultures circled around

A desert had become the essence of my being

To die had become an acceptable thing

But alas I would spot a glimmer of hope

A cavalry in the distance swiftly approached

My king led the charge, his sword in the air

His armor was shimmering; crown nesting his hair.

A tad bit surprised, I didn’t know how to react

My king was in danger, I was taken aback

I said, “What good is a king who leaves his throne,

To search for peasants leaving the palace alone?”

He heard my thoughts and with wise words and sound sense

He said “my kingdom is precious, but in no need of defense,

We aren’t fighting for justice, or just for what’s right

We are fighting for your soul, with our power and might.

We have taken stock, and this is of great worth

And we agree that we must fight; our subjects we serve.”

#36: Shape of my sorrow

The world I see is a nightmarish thing

When its perception of me is what I must be

Would you still love me if my wits were stolen?

Would you still care if my fears were emboldened?

If you took away my jokes and the laughter

If you peered into my soul, would I still even matter?

If you stripped me down to the essence of my being

Would you expose my heart, and the hurt I am feeding?

This right here is the shape of my sorrow

That amid life complexities I am empty and hollow

Picasso Portrait of Daniel-Henry Kahnweiler 1910

The first two lines of this poem always hit me hard. This idea that I have to live up to a certain set of norms and standards that define who I am is maddening. And if all the things that make up the good in me disappeared, and all the things that make up the bad in me were illuminated, where would that leave me? 

The truth is, the perception of me, is not me. The truth of who I am is not found in what I'm good at and what I'm bad at. It's not found in the right things I've done and the wrong things I've done. The truth of who I am transcends all finite perception.

So like in the cubist painting above, the truth of who I am may look nothing like the person perceived by the world or even myself. 

#35: Hello again, Mr. Crow

I guess I was just fooling myself

Thinking you were gone forever

You had just been hiding

In plain sight

I wasn't paying attention

Thinking everything was peachy and fine

You never went away

Colorblind society

Or just blind period

Ignoring the cultural divide

Saying there are no racial lines

A blind eye is no excuse

You’re just lying to yourself

Small slurs and subtle slights

Progress is a joke

Some work twice as hard

To get paid half as much

This is our post-racial country

Hatred because you don’t understand

Hurtful because you’re fearful

No one says that that’s the truth

But it is

Slavery was your father

Disproportionate incarceration your brother

Equality not part of the family

Your presence is a menace

Your presence as strong as ever

Hello again Mr. Crow

Don't fool yourself in to thinking we live in a post-racial society. Far from it. There are no cotton picking farms, but there are plenty of prisons and ghettos to segregate our society. It isn't overt, but it is happening. The war on drugs became a war on minorities. Urban diversity lead to white flight. The end of segregation begat subtle predatory lending (still happening today).

The scariest thing though, is that there is a bit of racism in all of us. Some people are outright hateful toward other races, but all of us struggle with racism in some way. A good question to ask yourself is, "Is my attitude towards other races and cultures fair or biased? If they are biased, why?" 

If a post-racial society is the goal, then an inherent and massive cultural shift would need to occur. The solid lines that form boundaries between our cultures and races would need to become dotted lines instead. At those boundaries is where common ground can be found and where understanding can be formed.

Of course, for anything to truly change, the dominant/majority culture must make the greatest effort as they are the culture with the most power. That would mean white people. The key to a post-racial society is white people. So if you are white, you can no longer be on the sidelines in the fight for equality, you have to be at the forefront if that is truly the goal.

#34: Privileged to live

Few things are both thrilling and terrifying at the same time. Catching a wave definitely fits both categories. When you paddle out there is that anticipation of whats coming, but you don't really know how crazy it will be until it arrives. Then when that swell comes, you kick like a mad man hoping to catch the wave and then go for a sweet ride. Or you kick in to the wave and it just smacks you and you wipe out.

One time, I was at Calafia with my boogie board and I just missed a wave. I thought I could paddle in to the wave even though it passed me so I started kicking as hard as I could. All of a sudden, I was on top of the wave as it was cresting and I looked over the top of it and all I could see was sand. Before I could figure out what was happening, I tumbled over the wave and my board hit the sand like a javelin. Then I crashed stomach first into the edge of the board. It felt like someone punched me in the gut. Everything was happening both fast and slow at the same time. I remember doubling over in pain for what felt like forever, but then the wave came crashing down on top of me. Needless to say, I was done catching waves for the day after that wipe out. 

Regardless of wiping out or catching a wave, it is amazing that the world is situated in such a way that we have the chance to go out and ride the waves if we are so inclined. 

Not Me

On blessings of the day,

 They are too numerous to count

Of a world intricately woven,

Of sights, of smells, of sounds

To live a life so full and fun,

 Not merely to exist

To accept the natural blessings,

The love that life insists

To know these things, to live them out,

Our love we freely give

In this life that is what it means

To be privileged to live

To stand still is to spin around

On the surface of this earth

To stand atop snowy mountains,

To ride the oceans surf

To run across the meadows,

To find treasure in the ground

To take a look at the night sky,

All the glowing stars around

To experience to its fullness

The best that love can give

In this life that is what it means

To be privileged to live