Wednesday, July 22, 2015

Rupture (Detroit) part 4

Where is the humanity?
Where is the divinity?

She said
“I want you to have a terrible reputation”
because you, i, told the truth,
the one she knows in her bones.
i am afraid.

the truth is
i gave the man
picking through the dumpster
some cherries,
but not the raisins.
i didn’t talk to the folks
staying day and night
on the church lawn,
except reluctantly
when they extended
to me.

the truth is
i wanted to see…
and i didn’t.

i didn’t want to see
white supremacy,
my complacency,
my complicity,
at work.

She said,
“You’ve got to put
your religion,
your heart,
your life
on the line.”

the truth is
i like my comfort,
my privilege,
my protected heart,
my distance from the line.
i don’t want to be
bothered with the
hard work
that lets others live
as easily as i.

but i must.

the truth is
my guts are spilling out,
ruptured in encounter,
and she and he and she,
implanted so quickly,
are spilling out of me
as i try to hold them
and the pestilence
in with one hand.

i also hold the salve.
i grip it tightly,
hand closed around
the sacrifice that leads to healing,
the sacrifice that isn’t sacrifice,
but cleansing love,
soothing relief.

the wound festering,
i am afraid to move my hands,
to open them,
and my heart,
and my life,

afraid of not enough,
afraid of what if,
afraid of a bad reputation
from telling the truth.
and i bleed,
and Detroit bleeds,

so i speak:

Where is the humanity?
Where is the divinity?

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