Why I Write

I turned to the first page of THE BOOK and to me it read,
“I know my Son is alive, but I want him dead!”
For what?
“For all the wrongs of the things he never said!”
Like what?
“Like speaking out against the injustices that swarmed about his head!”
But is that a fair assessment of what he really did wrong?
“Turn the page of this BOOK, for I want you to read along.”

“I gave him a Mother who I knew would lead him in the right direction
So it is not his ability to think that I bring in to question.
On his path, I put men of irration and disrepute
He bypassed all of them so arguing his association is moot
I gave him a family full of women to ensure he would know the meaning of respect
And for all that he was given sensitivity too, something I came to expect
In his back I put strength and a full length body between his head and the ground
He has demonstrated his ability to pick anyone up and carry them around
But for all that I gave him, I expected one more thing
For him to live in my name and not whisper it in vain
To understand my words further, listen to advice from a sage
Take a deep breath first before you turn to the next page

“He has created the biggest misjudgment of justice I can ever give sight
He did not fight for my righteousness with all of his might
He did not conclude with his gift who I designed him to be
My Sheppard in death-filled valleys to carry out my faculty
He stood black as Earth and unnaturally
Sat down when he should have stood up for me
And I ask you, if you think the air you breathe is free
When such a man should understand he's indebted to me?
He's indebted to you, his family and friends
To be a beacon of light when darkness begins to rescind
I made him that way, so I expect nothing less
He has given less, so no longer can I offer him my best
If you think I sound vengeful then I ask do you understand
What life would really be like without my invisible hand?”
And I paused on this page, wasn't sure if I could read on
This book had become a mirror; my soul written in Psalms
But I never stop what I finish, that can be the cause of my rage
So I blinked my eyes and focused, then slowly turned the page

“You worry me, My Son, it’s almost as if you've seen a ghost
I am the Lord, your savior, and I offer you this advise at most
Let me live through you and shine my divine Grace
Speak my words ever so gently and let my glow radiate your face
Move mountains before you, should they stand in your way
Right your righteousness in line with what you've known me to say
I am here for you, not because of you, never forget that
And if you feel separated, know you descend from me, FYI, I am black!”
And to that I shrugged-sighed, he was talking to me all along
It was his way of heeding my redemption, should I choose to live on
Should I choose to ignore his Grace, I would surely fall from it
And cast stones at myself from the highest of summits

I closed the final page of this read, this was the shortest book ever
But it had the longest message that would last me ‘til never
‘Til never again will I forego the path that has been cleared for me
For it is through Him, I can do all things; that is my destiny
Amen