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By Naomi Stewart. August 13, 2015 - 10:45 pm
I watch the news.
I listen to this music,
I hear the conversation.
And what I gain from them: bitterness.
The taste not-so-sweet.
The taste of the feet of marches upon protests,
I write a poem about whites, the blacks get bitter
A poem about blacks, the whites get bitter.
A poem about gays, the straights get bitter
A poem about straights, the gays they shiver.
A poem about Jews, anti-Semites cringe
A poem about terrorism, Muslims don’t win.
A poem about abortion
A poem about slavery
A poem about melanin
No one will be pleased.
Someone will take offense.
And someone will hoot and holler in agreement but the problem will continue,
Intolerance will exist.
And your verse,
And that slur,
And your opinion is only bitterness.
No one will be pleased
There will always be a minority,
There will always be a bias against you.
And yes it’s sad
And yes it’s cruel, but that is human.
That is nature.
The world, sick as it is, we live in.
Very few sweet things come of it
And your tongue tastes bitterness.
I could write a poem about God
But bitter people will assume religion
I’m only spitting to bring to light your bitterness!
See he’s the only sweet thing I’ve tasted and unbiased thing I’ve seen.
And yes you can preach about how he hates
The whites for twisting his book,
Hates the gays for loving same
Hates the people of other faiths and beliefs.
You can preach about how he caused this bitterness
To swell inside you
And how you now have cause to be defiant
Mind you my dear persecuted girl
What are you persecuted for?
Your skin? Your orientation? Your religion? Your slavery?
We are all slaves to sin!
But we tend to forget that part of the story.
We tend to forget Adam and Eve
We neglect that God came down,
That God dwelled among the crooks and gays,
That God walked with prostitutes and slaves
And that God died for the White man’s hate.
We focus on our issue,
Make ourselves victims.
Take that infertile soil and spread it across our tongue
Ingest it with our bread
And call ourselves righteous for having a cause
To “fight” for.
See, man, is not gracious
Man, is not accepting
Man, is not loving
Man is not God.
And whoever your God might be,
I respect you, but my God is greater.
My God is creator,
My persecution is temporary
And my burdens are light.
My skin is black.
My hair is naps.
My faith is hated.
But I know in my heart,
And I taste on my tongue, the sweetness of heaven.
I am who God created me to be
And I know not everyone will accept me.
I know not everyone will want to associate with me.
Or allow me to certain human “rights”
Because of where I come from or what I look like.
But my only rights come from God almighty and
No man or woman can make me feel like
I am not loved.
You are loved,
You are accepted,
You are beautiful and perfect and worth it
In the eyes of God our father.
And he wants you to see you through his eyes
And believe me once you do
All the haters, all the politicians, all those against you
Oddly enough you’ll learn to love them
And see them how God sees them
And let them not affect you.
And the bitterness will slowly slip off your tongue
And the burden will be lifted away
And the scars will fade.