My Own Worst Enemy

Just revelation. Nothing more.

I am not black and

I am not white…

My moral dilemma

Is not defined by others’ sight.

 

I am more now than my emotions allow

Trying to keep myself together;

Sometime I will see how

To be known by more than just a rusted plow.

 

But I must not permit myself to mitigate

That mankind’s hate did propagate

Separation, isolation driven by nails of hate

 

To act as though no pain is found

Through color of skin is to ignore the sound

Of whips cracking and chains binding

 

So to that end I will not allow

My children to not know the when or how

Of artists undiscovered by me until now

Men of courage, my fields they’ve plowed.

 

Men like Havens, Cooke and Gaye

Artists like Gil Scot-Heron…they plowed a way

Cultivated a culture, resistant to society’s vultures

Fought the oppression to increase our perception

Of the injustice of predjudice.

 

Back I will take you to my original thought,

For in the truth that my sins have been bought

Paid with a price, too precious to charge twice

The Man and Messiah that died to enlighten us

 

So to unity’s end with purpose I will walk,

Eyes cast to Zion, enough with the talk.

I now know that I need to be freed from this greed

Of pride in myself, divided by a cleft

That has kept me uneasy, this understanding-

I am my own worst enemy.