I have a dream! No, that’s BS
I live a reality.
A reality of a world in which the men
Who preach non-violence die by it.
A reality where the first time I heard the “I have a dream” speech in its entirety
I wanted to punch a happy clown in the face. As I felt anger ’cause not much had changed.
Sitting in a campus where some had only seen black people on MTV
I’m talking about ’96 not 1856.
A reality where although my photography hangs on the walls
Of this great building.
When I walk outside ignorance still clutches her purse.
Where a grandfather can come to care for his grandchild and end up crippled for not speaking English.
Yes… I’m angry at times… but in reality hope refreshes me like a wave splash or a warm summer breeze.
The reality is, that although Langston Hughes poems read as if they were written yesterday.
Dr King and the whole movement gave us the chance to be here today.
I have an opportunity to teach my sons to be tolerant but never to be stepped on.
In this reality I could read the “Letter from Birmingham” hundreds of times but if I let my anger take over the dream dies.
Instead, I channel that anger into creating positive outcomes.
The energy one could use to hate could power the most precious and intelligent minds.
To bring about the continuous change that we need.
Not mentally castrate individuals as it was done to 49,000 in Europe.
Robbing us of one of the most brilliant minds on earth.
The father of modern day computers. All in the name of intolerance.
You see, even in the darkest hours the hope of that ray of light has made us do great things.
We must each one teach one as History only repeats itself if we let it.
The goal should not be to feel comfortable with each other.
However as a hive work as one.
Through my art and voice I want to shine that ray of light into the darkest corners.
We must stay hopeful but vigilant, because if we stand for a splash of ignorance the wave is sure to bury us!
If it wasn’t for the strength of its roots, curling down through earth.
Cementing a strong hold that would last for centuries.
Individuality becomes hard to maintain when we bathe in the hypocrisy of society.
The power of the ocean is made to be felt by its forever curling waves, smashing against the shores.
Keeping us enthralled with the beauty of every outstretched splash, none similar to the next.
The undulations made by your hair captivate my attention like an insect on a web woven by the most beautiful spider.
Setting the most intricate trap which appears to have its own life, as on a daily basis it is forever changing.
As the most skilled driver, I want to travel with patience, speed and wander through the curves every strand of hair makes.
It’s been said “you don’t know what it takes” to take care of this mane.
Probably I’ll never know, however there’s one thing I do know.
The strength, individuality and magnetism that is conveyed by those untamable curls.
Could never be matched by this twisted society’s or your-hater-friends and family standards of beauty!
But, what do I know?! I’m just an individual who appreciates individuality!
Have been going through this journey we call life knocking on most of the doors on the corridor.
Dismissing others and most times walking through the wrong ones.
The one constant has been the continuous forward movement.
Although slow at times it has taken breakneck speeds at others.
Learning as a newborn has sometimes taken the back seat to destroying the organ which harnesses creativity.
Complaints could be made doing no justice to the quality of having had an abundance of days with sky’s as blue as the most perfect Aryan child’s eyes.
Now days I stay busy building my own doors, following a friends advice.
Taking me on a train ride, where stops at every station are filled with new discoveries.
The more I travel, now doors seem to open. Not looking back I continue to build. But I do glance back.
Looking for the creative part of every station consumes the light.
Leading into that beautiful darkness which ushers the light again.
While I continue to build and create.