No More Fighting

It's taken me till today To get better at not blaming others. To Understand you know more than I do. Mine eyes are for me to see. Were it up to me I'd get bored of what I was saying before I've convinced you to listen to what I meant. So who's too small to talk back? I spent my whole life getting better, it took me two minutes to be born. Was it a curse or my first breath, the first blessing, That was all I needed from us all. A man with a gun knows how strong, but a man who understnads and listens, In his palm, the gun could fall. If the bullets speak in response, to something, Where'd the argument start? If you won't listen to me because I'm too small? Who's to say you hear anything by standing too tall? I've fought my baby sister, friends, my parents, kids I didn't even know, dults, Ministers, maybe not my own. politicians, but didn't open my mouth teachers, cause who knows, police, no that man does not need another blow. Doctors, by no fault of their own. Masons, well, silence fell. Shriners, um allah for all? Catholics, well, don't hate it all. Protestants, english men deserve another call. Muslims, a man deserves to tell. Christians, even Mormans, and especially Unitarians. course, who raised me at all? Yet, to you all, I still found a piece of me inside of you to hold onto. The greatest obstacle I've encountered in life should be myself. Yet, with tooth and nail, I've managed to mangle all that I hold dear. Attempting to unfold reality beyond before. You just wanted my grace. So, what's worth fighting for? You take what I give you, and counter and trace, till nothing is left, except, of course, waste. To conquer supposed to include won, But when said and done, Who knows where they come from. When a man bent on smashing another to smitherenes, One word could deflate his motives, no harm done to anyone, not him, not me. How do we put up with, Why don't we wait out for it? Was it permission we bid for, this ability the ultimate from the rest? Again, Is it me you must listen to, or what's inside of you? If Ghandi said it was Love the only true manifestation in the universe, Negativity, still nothing at all. Who's to say nurturing that need detracts at all from the progress of a masterpiece beyond everything kept small.

I Remember Being Born, I Saw You Come out.

Baby You Came into this World, As if you'd been lynched. Heart rate faint They were going to cut Your momma's poompoom, As if teamwork wasn't only your's (you two) Till late. Just to sample fate, It was my dyress, Which left breathing, A test. My lungs unconvinced, Necessity, at rest. You, untwirled and unsquoze, Filled the room with the most beautiful cry, As Red a face can get. I looked into your eyes, Your embilical, my lance to confess, Separation, Impalement, Relied. Brand new, Both your wound, And air to your skin. We gazed at eachother, Through all eternity, a new beginning, Your guidance begun. I remember, How blurry my first gaze. Unfamiliarity, but the world within, Nothing akin. My mother's swollen body, My first glimpse, As they rolled me by, When. But I made sure that, She above her bed. I had but a moment, My first connection, them. I still saw her, though. Eyes hollow, Jaundice set it. Skin so tawt. Through the foggy window, As the rolled me by her bed, To partitioned, Sterile, somewhere. My lungs burning, Air, forcing them. Partitioned Procedured without you, Mama. You, Asleep, Just them. No one knowing that I'm speaking, can't even listen. If all I was supposed to, Fill my bags with hot air, Oxygen in the blood again. They kept me on a ventilator for 24 hrs, back then. But having been forced to watch them work for me. I knew how to breath, the second breath in. They weened me off ventilation, meticulously progressed, Thin. I lived away from my mother for six weeks, As they called it healing, My isolet kept my temperature in. Freedom, My mama's nipple, Suckle, A hard thing to work in. Had the doctor's Waited any longer, "Who knows" would have made it, She and I'd be dead. Were it not for one doctor, A black man, My savior, In. Not many endure What premature beginnigs Win. Finding myself struggling to Match the rhythm of a machine, Only tolerance, Patience, Win. What elation We al must have felt. No breathing tube Still in. The same way I started breathing, A bicycle, My transportation, then. But before I lent my tricycle, My parents, Walking, A chore to them. Imagine, Finding me, Making do, Just showing off for a friend. See man, When you came out, All wrapped in your embilical. That last push? Left your ability in. Your momma gave it her all, And we got you, in the end. I hope someday, You and I can talk About how blurry the world was, When we first stepped in!