See Me
Where are you?
My God, where?
Black men killed in the streets:
their murder on full display
for the world to see
Acts of violence against
people you love
by those in power
who proclaim to know you
Where are you?
My God, where?
They told me you stood with the oppressed
They told me you flipped tables in anger
They told me you healed the outcast
They told me you welcomed the stranger
They told me you loved the poor
They told me you sought out the voiceless
So then, where are you?
Why don’t I see you?
Have you abandoned your children?
///
No, my beloved.
I am there.
Look closer.
Are you blinded
by your own
privilege?
I was always there.
I tried to explain, but I only saw fear in their eyes.
I tried to run, but they chased me down.
I tried to speak, I cried, “I can’t breath.”
I tried to tell them that they were killing me.
I tried, my child, but they did not see me.
They did not recognize
my blood being shed
in the name of fear
and my cries wafting
above the flames
that burned
their house of brutality
They did not hear
My shouts swelling
into the night
They did not see
their Christ
in my eyes
They just saw
this skin
clinging to my bones
and their hearts
hardened.
///
My God, you?
That was always you?
///
Yes, my child.
I am always in the heart of the oppressed
the cries of the unheard
the tears of the suffering
the breath leaving these
broken bodies
that is where I dwell.
Don’t you feel me here?
I thought you knew.
///
I did not see you, God.
I did not know
my blinded
mind
and
my deafening
silence
enabled them
to hurt you.
Forgive me, Lord.
I have failed you.
///
Yes, my child,
You did not see,
but you are no longer blind
so come
stand here with me now
join hands with my siblings in this work
lift up my children’s voices
and See me
on this ground that I stand
this raised fist
in the air
and
your hand
raised with mine
bringing justice
and peace.
Photo by Olu Famule on Unsplash
