earthly simplicity

Written by Chenoa Lewis

 

i was asked to talk to you,

you so-called higher power.

i was asked to talk to you,

you so-called godly tower.

i was asked to talk to you,

i can’t find the words to shower,

you with.

 

it who must not be named,

the name i give to you.

how could i support this

twisted game

when the ideals of you,

and your beliefs

murdered the innocent,

the honest, the weak,

 

the colored,

your flock of sheep.

 

i saw what you did to my people.

captured them in shackles,

stacked them on wooden slacks,

let them eat each others

shit

spit

throw up

and whatever else bodily shit.

 

i saw you slash them

with your leather whips,

piercing into the bare-brown skin

never allowing the wounds to heal,

leaving them to transcend to generations

and generations,

the layers revealed

where the deep scars linger

on our backs

reminding us everyday,

 

we are not free.

 

you told my people

we were less than man,

you allowed your people,

to believe this was true.

how could i not despise,

hate, want to murder you?

 

i ain’t practicing no non-violence routine

MLK preached, murdered at his feet.

i am angry

i am protesting

and i’m still waiting for my forty acres,
my mule and the loosening

of your oppressive grip

that still lies deeply rooted in the

branches of constitutional bullshit.

 

 

 

she blames me for the torture

of her people,

the kidnappings from her land,

she blames me for the doing of a man.

 

she blames me

but she doesn’t know me

until that day she forgets every day.

we met deep in the redwoods,

we spoke in that earthly manner,

i shined my light on her

from the rays above,

i swayed with her mind through

the shake of the leaves in the wind.

 

she laid down

on top of my green-brown core

and I shared with her

my world. where

hate
discrimination

violence

cease to exist,

where it is not used for torture.

 

she stared above into the spaces

between the branches

leaves

trees

and there i was,

she was looking at me.

i spoke through the chirps of the sparrows

the breath of the trees

the beams of the sun

the buzz of the bees

the clouds, always on the run.

 

she knew then

this was me,

she knew that it was no such thing

but mere simplicity.

the sway of the trees

the wind that runs through

the movements of the birds and bees

the sun beaming life,

the forest reaching, praising high

in the sky for warmth

oxygen—

earthly love.

 

she knew then

that God wasn’t created by me.

she knew then

that i am earthly simplicity.

for then,

she forgot about me.

 

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