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  • Writer's picturesadie.speaks


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'.


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,





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


Black Lives Matter

George Floyd

Genesis 4:10

Matthew 27:24

Matthew 27:54

Stoning of Stephen

2 Samuel 12

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