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Bitterness

    By Naomi Stewart. August 13, 2015 - 10:45 pm

jesus_crownofthornsI read these poems,

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,

Upon Slave-dress!

That bitterness.

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

Won’t matter.

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.