Saying It Again

Does what’s already been said,

Need to be said again?

Perhaps. Maybe, if,

In a new way,

Or, maybe, if,

From a new person;

For, it’s not just

What is said, that matters,

But who says it, and,

Who they say it to,

And, Lord knows,

Just because it’s

In a book,

Doesn’t mean

It will be read,

Certainly not by everyone.

Knowledge

Do I know more now,

Then I did, back then?

What I know now,

Is how little I know.

When I was young,

I thought I knew everything.

I thought there wasn’t much

Left to learn.

How little I knew!

Much less than now,

And yet, the more I know,

The more I realize,

There is so much out there

That I know nothing about!

I have forgotten a lot

Of what I used to know.

But I am wiser, now,

Because now I know

That how much one knows

Doesn’t really matter.

But wisdom is precious,

And comes at a price.

I do not think so much

Of myself anymore.

I am humbled,

And I have suffered

Quite a bit.

Suffering has a way

Of showing a person

What is and who are

Really important.

Family and friends

Shouldn’t be taken for granted.

Love, above all,

Is to be cherished.

Freedom

When I see your face

I think of those

Whom I grew up around,

Messing with me

Whenever possible,

Invading my privacy,

Taking away my freedom.

But my freedom

Was intact.

It was my race

That took away

Their freedom.

They didn’t have

A fancy free childhood

Like me.

They weren’t given

Whatever they wanted,

And weren’t free

To go wherever

And with whomever

They wanted, like me.

Their parents couldn’t afford

To buy them a computer.

They didn’t have

Highly educated parents

To help them

With their homework.

They had to worry

If they’d have breakfast

Each day,

And dinner was nonexistent.

No, my freedom

Was not taken.

They were just reminding me

That they were there,

And they deserved

Freedom too.

And when they saw me,

They saw privilege,

Someone who couldn’t imagine

What it is like

To really struggle to get by;

Someone who didn’t appreciate

How much freedom they had.

Indeed.

Reconciliation

Walking, trying, bleeding.

Striving, crying, pleading.

Is there a way

Out of this mess?

Can you feel

My vocal caress?

Wondering why

We never learn.

Easy as pie

To make a turn.

Can we put

Our heads together?

Feel the burn

Of the whipping leather.

Know the fear

Of a trapped body and soul.

Find a way out

Of this evil role.

Someday soon

We will realize

Why we are

So despised.

A mystery of sorts,

But not without a clue.

We must find a way

To make things new.