Don't Think I Forgot
Slavery.
Don't think I forgot. The lead iron combination that bonded me to my deceitful internal damnation to build a nation for those whom I did not know. The hot blaze of fire across my back from the leather tail that extended from the hand in rage. This life is not my experience but the definition of who I am yet still; It is the epitome of a forsaken fate that was granted onto us before we even knew how to recognize. I didn't forget I swear. Twisted, were the vines of breath that provided me assurance of the future. A true fatality to what became the symbolic process of a grand escape to the world. Don't think I forgot.
Church.
The radiance of it all, like a beacon on the pier over the sea of content that soothed the lament over my status. A spiritual encapsulating revival under the white tent. When gravity enacted it's terrible madness which forced me to gracefully succumb to Him, the blackness was unreal. The valley became a hill and the intertwined legacy of the sky and earth were at last one. I can not forget. It wasn't even mine to begin with. In remembrance, I must contend to the afflicted. The one that nailed his body to the cross figure saved those who kidnapped me. But I still believe in him. After all, it is all one circumstance according to the proverbial guidance in the almighty book.
Civil Rights
Don't think I forgot. Rope, dangling from the tree whose strength is only measurable by how long it can hold the rotting body under the sun. War in another setting was a refuge from the threat of certain death from my laborious creation in this superficial origin. Water, which is the sustenance of all man became a significant terror that made me afraid to walk the streets. My thought process was already corrupted; so it isn't hard to understand my actions when I raise my right fist in justice and die fighting the struggle to reverse time. When I stand at the pulpit preaching against the same indignations that brought me to kingdom come but it doesn't matter because boulevard's will be named in my honor. When I cry at the sight of the blaze entombed cross on the lawn in front of the place I once found sanctuary. Don't think I forgot.
2014
I didn't forget my place in this social stigma; stimulated by false appreciation for culture. A steady inclination in my quantifiable appearance has been the burden of my youth, misconstrued perception. I will never forget. The physical slurs meant to evoke emotion on the school bus morphed into the lady spying on me from behind the clothing racks making me unwelcome turning into the weekly cop demanding my license and registration which then spiraled into the hidden whispers of jealousy from those who I thought to be friends that then became a qualitative judgement of the almighty and powerful institution. Say, what you mean and mean you say. Be careful, don't get lost. The abyss of today's animosity will grab you and will never let you go. Mental abuse of today's generalization does not suit me well. Forgiven.
Don't think I forgot. You don't have to listen or even gain the knowledge. But don't forget. I'm still going to scream, still going to cry, still going to laugh, still going to feel, still going to be human. Don't forget, because I haven't forgot.
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