The popular belief these days is to simply embrace your true self. To stop denying who you really are, whatever that looks like- and in the process, only surround yourself with people who affirm it.
Well, I don’t think anyone would want to be around me if I did that.
In sifting through my Evernote folders, I came across a poem I wrote sometime earlier this year. From the looks of it, I was having a really rough day. It must have been the day I saw Sia’s music video for her song Elastic Heart, which would explain the reference in the first part of the poem. I feel somewhat embarrassed for saying this, especially in light of Shia Labeouf’s latest viral explosion (you know, the one where he yells “JUST DO IT” a bunch of times?)… but that music video ripped me open. I remember feeling overwhelmed when it was done, as it left me with tears spilled down my face and bewildered by my reaction. Abram wasn’t home for whatever reason, which thankfully allowed me to deal slowly with whatever was trying to come out over the course of the afternoon. Not that I can’t deal with stuff in front of my son- I often do, for both of our sakes. But sometimes, children don’t afford you the courtesy for long, afternoon bouts of self analyzation.
It all came out in this poem called Bloodline. I’m a little scared to let you see this, as I usually am when I share this side of my writing. But as I came across it, I felt compelled to share, perhaps in thinking on the world and culture we live in. I know I’ve kept it pretty light over the last several weeks, so I’m sorry for jumping from silly pictures of college cafeteria life to this. I only wrote half of it that day, and the other half a few days ago when I decided that it wasn’t finished. The second half is in bold.
I know I’ve come out a bit different
But I’ve still got the same blood running through my veins
Which is why I know most of my bad thoughts aren’t whispers from the devil
But darkness inside of my own DNA
Maybe the reason that caged dance
Is because I’ve been at war with myself since
The day I was made
And try as I might to allow the clean blood to take over
Some days I can’t help but be stuck in the reign.
The reign of family history.
History flowing deep inside of me.
I can feel it trying to slowly blot me out
Like the moon eclipses the sun.
Curses aren’t just incantations in fables
But as real as unmarked tombstones
They are forever like the lines on the palms of my hand
Sins that are buried with bones.
I feel the serpent creep slowly, subtly inching towards my brain
Wanting to sink into the right lobe and then the left
Start wars that are only fought in vain…
My answer is no, even though parts of me want to give in.
It fights to take over, it wants every inch of my inside
But curses can end, for so long they can only try
To consume a child, and sometimes they win
But if I fight back…
If I fight back against what was started within…
Then maybe. Maybe the Reign of Family History will finally, and with great anticipation and with triumphant celebration and with blood-marked justification…
Come. To an end.
Jesus, Jesus, Jesus
Sweetest name I know…
I do know You
But You’ve known me far before the star stuff exploded
You’ve known about my bloodline
You were inside of my history
You wept when our children wept
Because of the things that were stolen
Your righteousness burned with white flames
As you watched father’s sins birth more sin
There are things you’ve allowed to happen
And my heart still asks the why questions
You knew me.
You knew I was coming.
And you decided to put a fight in me.
I’m not special.
The divide created from the moment Eve decided to try and take your place
was in my heart when it started beating.
So this fight, this freedom uprising
I cannot take credit.
I know in my blood the foul potential
And all I’ve got as weapons are truth and grace.
Grace… greater than ALL of my sin
You knew me, You know me, You know where I’m headed…
If we all truly grasped how depraved and crooked we really are, the internet would be a lot quieter. Kinda like a late night dinner with friends of different walks of life, sharing calmly over a bottle of wine.
But instead, the comment threads have become a zoo cage full of monkeys screeching and throwing their own poo at each other. And that poo is lit on fire, so it burns it’s opponents.
I’ve done it. I’m guilty.
I don’t typically like to use “we” in my posts, because I learned a while back that it’s better to only talk about myself when referencing shittiness. But my goodness gracious, folks. What are we doing to each other?
This week it was the whole Word Vision catastrophe. But honestly, it’s something new each month, each week, even each day that we rip each other new ones over. I have lost count of how many times I’ve seen comments this week that involve words aimed to condemn someone else for not showing “love” like they should….wait. WHAT?
How are we not seeing this schizophrenia?
There’s plenty of people out there that have talked about this before, and in much more intelligible ways. I don’t have data or statistics or snapshots of troll’s comments to show you to help me make my point. I guess I’m just trying to flesh this out and figure out what it is that we have become.
I don’t have any answers at the moment because I’m trying to find them myself. But I do speculate that if we are going to get anywhere, we must start setting the fire-poo down and begin pulling the sleep masks off of our own eyes that keep us from seeing how sick our hearts are. Doing a little bit o’ that each day might change the way we see and respond to each other.