Answers

I saw God on a northbound 300 going back to Heaven
He sat,
three seats over to my left
hunched over
skin looked just like rain
he smelled like forgiveness
like a thousand halos and angel wing kisses
he held the blueprints to the civilizations in his fingerprints
and the secrets of the world were tucked in the crevices of his wrinkles
his hair matted and kinked,
twisted beautifully
and if you looked closely you could almost feel were his roots started.
Mother nature was sitting behind him
corn-rowing his mane into life lines
that reaches as far back as
when D.C snipers shot bullets into the ignorance of African American’s who thought our people could never do this
When burning crosses on the front lawns of niggas was considered a community service
when raping 3 year old virgins was considered the cure for AIDS
as far back as
when I wouldn’t even be considered 3/5 human beings
when children picked up their own pieces
in the hopes of being pieced back together to continue the search for blood diamonds
when slaves sung songs strung together wish secret messages
when Jesus first utter the word mommy
when Adam first laid eyes on Eve and thought he was not worthy
He sat,
and I watched him
anger boiling beneath the surface of this thick skin I was given
And I wanted to ask him
how could you lay dormant as these things weaved into our history?
You created stars and galaxies
but sit idly by as the light in innocent eyes die
I stood,
with the intent of crossing this purgatory
hell bent on getting my point across.
He turned to me,
and as he read these thoughts that lingered on my face
he placed a single finger on my lips and asked me
“Who do you think you are?
Where were you when I had to take the lost spirits of abandoned children,
dead orphans,
miscarried babies
and aborted dreams and give them homes in the light of stars?
Where were you when I had to eclipse my fallen angel morning star
and leave him to burn in a pit of his own hatred instead of standing by my side?
Tell me where you were when I had to watch my son suffer,
carry the world’s sin on his back and welcome the cold kiss of death,
arms spread open like the wings of the sparrow my eyes be on?
Then separate my spirit in two,
create a paradise suitable enough for sinners
birthed from the loins of my soul,
my breathing labored after I created the safe haven
for those who repented for the rules they had broken
even after I had already put them in action.
Where were you when I realized man was not strong enough to handle creating on his own.
When I broke Adam’s rib and created a creature able to birth miracles.
A creature whose strength that even I as God am envious of.
Took feathers from my army and laced it in their skin.
Where were you?”
And I looked into his eyes,
saw were the billions of selfish prayers were hidden in the folds of his crow’s feet,
saw were his father Time had taught him lessons a mere mortal could never understand.
heard his heart beat whisper every wish ever made.
and the word sorry danced on the tip of my tongue,
teasing my taste buds.
“Do not apologize.
The answers to your questions are hidden in the eyes of war vets,
blinded because they were not ready to witness martyr’s souls being freed by exploding rainbows.
So now they see through my eyes.
They exist in the touch of the ones who can’t remember their own name because they have been blessed,
their mind is over loaded.
Battling butchered thoughts encased in loveless memories produced from hearing to many angels cry,
and seeing too many halos broken.
So now their mind flows as freely as my mine.
These answers linger in the aurora of those who walk as crooked as the lightning cutting across the Heavens due to the damage done to their exterior from the hell they call a life makes them walk like God, like I.
Do you understand?
I don’t punish my creation,
I just painted you in the image of me
so now I’m finishing my master pieces.
So know that for every tear that you shed,
one of your feathers is stitched back into your wings.
And one day they will be reattached to your back.
Do understand now?
You are all…
just homebound.”

Father, I....

Father, I…
cry sometimes as you speak.
Cry sometimes in my sleep
as I question the many insecurities that you have gave me.
Am I pretty?
Did you want me?
Are you proud of me?
Do you even love me?
It’s funny how you can father strangers,
isn’t it?
Wasn’t it you who laid this seed?
So why take it out on me,
I didn’t asked to be in this world,
and can’t even remember how many times
I’ve thought of making my exit.
But it’s not like you’d notice,
just like you didn’t notice how my favorite color changed to green
or notice how my walked changed after I lost my virginity
to somebody who told me the words you never could…
I love you.
Shit, do you?
I wouldn’t know,
because it’s not like you act like it.
And yeah you provide for me,
but what I need can’t come out of your pocket.
I don’t want you fucking money…
I just need you to start acting like daddy.
And it’s sad that when somebody motioned the word father
the first five people that pop into my head aren’t you.
sad that sometimes I wish my father,
wasn’t you.
And the person that I would call daddy,
is maybe a foot or so shorter than you,
a little bit thicker than you
lighter than you.
My dad…
is a poet.
And it’s sad that I admire him more than you
and he doesn’t know it.
Sad that I seek his approval as a substitution
for the absence of yours.
I’ve closed doors,
and thrown away the keys to locks,
so now the old me
is so far behind behind me
that I no longer know her.
And you always told me I shouldn’t speak to strangers.
But she’s there every morning,
in my mirror,
waiting for me,
and this little girl looks so lonely,
I wanna help her
but she’s helpless…
locked everyone out,
she refuses to get up
cause she doubts herself
she’s stuck holding her knees to her chest.
Hugging herself
‘because you never did.
Never did man up to the result of you getting your man up,
Never took the time to understand the product of your semen,
Father, I…
never really knew how to start this conversation.
You are about to lose me,
I’m drifting….
Doing things that I never thought that I would be.
Talking to you has now become a burden
instead of being the treasure that I once thought of it as.
This resentment that I feel has grown,
so now it has consumed me,
and is slowly turning into something stronger.
This wildfire is to damn big,
ranged to damn far,
spread my tolerance to damn thin…
and now my weight has decided to mimic my patience.
I guess what I’m trying to say is…
father, I…
hate this.
So now I’m gone,
and my only regret is
that I lacked the alphabetical structure to make me the little boy that you always wanted.
And once it was told to me that your mother didn’t believed that I was yours
and now I think that somewhere in the back of your mind you don’t believe either,
that would explain your actions.
Explain why you treat me more like a chore,
instead of a blessing.
But I’m not sorry,
it’s you that should be…
you’re missing out on my life,
you’re blind
and this will be the last time I make any attempt to give you your sight back.
Again here I stand saying to you
“daddy, daddy
you bastard…
I’m through.”