There are the ugly things
The cracks in life
So vague and mysterious they often leave you cold
Like starving children in some country in Africa
And you think to yourself that you are sad
But you aren’t sad
You’re just empty of feeling
And there’s ugly hidden in the cracks of time
Like the racism we say we’ve beaten
But we haven’t
When a loving mother can suggest police stop
Citizens for speaking Spanish
And we can fear one another because of “other”
And a family who unknowingly saved countless families
Being the offspring of a medical miracle
Can’t afford to go to the doctor.
How are these things so shadowed?
How I’ve plastered over the shadow cracks in my mythology
This is an ugly thing
And one day the ugly will be covered over with hands
That know no difference in people except those who loved Him
Who He loves till the end.
There are the lovely things
But sometimes you must wait a long time
hmmmm, something I'm working on as a response to my own response on reading the beginning of The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks, which I already know is going to be fascinating, but I also needed a new post.
Just so everyone is aware, I'm really really really uncomfortable with political poetry. So, try not to think this is political. This is just me, first and foremost a Christian, then an average person, then an average poet making sense of the world. Ok? Great.