Today’s guest writer is a young white woman who has championed this blog and made a difference in my life since she was a baby. We met at her birth as she is a beloved daughter of Mr. Barnabas and myself, Ms. Sadie Speaks. Her body of poetry nearly rivals mine in breadth and often surpasses in depth and poignancy. She cares deeply about marginalized & oppressed populations and makes a distinct difference in her career at university. I welcome her cry of and her call to repentance. There has to be a safe and sacred space where us white folk (or, any folk) can lament and repent of our sins of racism -- and this blog stands in that place. Just as there is a fight for the things that really matter, there is also a yielding and surrendering to the things that really matter as well. Repentance matters. And it is a daily prayer of the soul to 'forgive us our trespasses'.
Repentance
A black brother bent
His breath spent
Makes me think of the moment the curtain rent
and only then did the Roman realize the Son of God was innocent
Proclamations of innocence too late
To stop the fate
Of a death date
The famous bystander Pilate said, “I wash my hands, it’s not my plot”
As if he forgot his water could not wash that damned spot
Damning spot
Injustice unfought
Cowardice caught
Or then think of Saul
Who threw no stones but held the coats
As the peaceful was smote
With praise in his throat
And love in his quote
No more peace from pax
Pax Romana, Americana ain’t gonna stop the blood in its tracks.
Peace of gore
Peace of war
Power’s whore
That blood cries out from the ground
Whose blood? My brother’s
Asking God for not another
Weeping black mother
Over a body, covered
Let’s have the peace of Shalom, of Jubilee
That gives liberty
And help me remember, right now, the captive ain’t me.
I’ll always walk free
from a knee
on my artery
I want to think I’m David, after God’s own heart,
But even David felt the dart of the sin that pulls us apart
Like David, I’ve demanded to understand
By whose hand comes injustice into this land
until a prophet reprimands,
YOU
Are
That
Man
So I know I’ve been Pilate
I know I’ve been Saul
But help me be Moses
Help me be Paul
Or a nameless disciple who answered the call
If I speak with a stutter, with a thorn, the chief sinner of all,
Just please, God of justice, help me not fall.
Better yet, help me see Jesus
Savior of the oppressed
Defender of the distressed
Respite of the hard-pressed
Great Giver of rest
Who leaves no protest unaddressed
And calls the poor in spirit blessed
And help the blood of the ground mix with the blood of the cross,
not discounting the loss,
but forging a connection with Life’s insurrection that comes in resurrection
Bring justice
Bring justice
Bring justice
Amongst us
Have mercy
Have mercy
Have mercy
On me
Guest Poet
6.2.2020
Black Lives Matter
George Floyd
Genesis 4:10
Matthew 27:24
Matthew 27:54
Stoning of Stephen
2 Samuel 12