Friday, July 14, 2017

Salty, bleeding heart

Maybe you're right. Yes, I have a bleeding heart. Yes, I don't always know what I want, but no, I refuse to settle for the things that I know I don't want.

Maybe if you give me a second I can write you into immortality, give you wings that span the ends of the earth, a heart that loves fiercely, protects the hurting and softens the gaze of the wicked.

Maybe I also know that if you go out of your way to hurt me you will die a thousand deaths, all by the wrath of my pen.

Maybe I've been blessed with motherland curls that don't let my afro go anywhere without serious persuasion, so forgive me if I decide to walk out the door looking like a riot and not giving a hoot that you would rather I at least had Becky's messy bun.

Maybe I don't want you to light a flicker in my heart if you don't have candles for eyes to light the way for all who experience your being.

Maybe I know that sometimes people are punished for crimes of which they are the victim. Why do rapists get months, a few years or nothing behind bars when we all know the raped get  PTSD?

Maybe I think that Jesus would have totally kept up with the Kardashians because He spent His life loving on people we wouldn't be caught dead talking to. We say we want to be like Him yet we lock Him up in church, only spend time with other christians and only love on "unbelievers" so we can show it off on social media or brag about how accepting we are.

Maybe my world has spectrums full of grey that makes loving on the world a little easier and I understand that your bleached whites and ebonies will never truly feel at home here, loving on all these people that think so differently from you, yet feel and love just as hard.

Maybe people who say things like "you're kind," "you are a Christian," "you're a woman of faith," "you give back a lot," as if they are major character flaws and conclude with "I don't think I could ever live up to who you are" are the kind of people I'm terrified to be with.

Maybe I remember what it feels like to be left with no exit strategy for my feelings and I'll be damned if I do that to another person. Someone smart once said "you can put a band-aid on a finger, but what can you put on a broken heart?"

Maybe I don't know exactly what I want but maybe we both know that whatever it is, it isn't you.