storms poetry

Sins of the Father – Crazy enough to love me

See Me
Like the cover of a book which would be my life
My ethnicity, my race, my creed, my land to whom I am a guardian,
Because they are a part of who I am, written in my veins
Even though I did not chose them
They are, the first piece of me you see.
Hear me
The dialect of my speech, the wisdom and foolishness of my words
The way I speak
Because it comes out of who I am
It is placed inside of me
It is the only thing you know for certain that comes from within me.
Judge me
By the content of my character filled with life experience
Which is my faith enacted upon
Because it is who I am, that person of free will I choose to be
It is what I have been taught and evolved from
It is a piece of me I reveal to you if I trust you.
Watch me
As a plot unfolds unscripted theatre
My actions or lack of it
Because they are the story of my life
They are what I've chosen I am
The piece of me that confirms what you conclude I am.
Know me
The perspective from which I see the world
How I view myself and maybe how you have taught me to see you
Because it is the understanding of who I am
It is why I chose to live the way I do
What am I to you but a piece of the world as you see it.

Letters from a father to a son

- Flash1988

“Ether, promise me something son”

“Baba (yes father)”

“Promise me that after I am gone you will carry your self as a king, not because you are better than the people around you but because you carry my last name, my blood and that’s like your crown and throne, it is who you are meant to be and what you will grow to become. It was given to me by my father, I shall give it to you, and you will give to your son one day. The ancestors… you carry us all in your veins, and should you stray from the path of a king, look up and always return to true north and start walking toward it again, true north is constant it will guide you to your kingship”

“Where are you going father, can I come with you please? I don’t know how to walk as a king yet, I am still learning how to ride my bike and I don’t know where true north is?”

“No… Son no, not this time you cannot go where I am going, and don’t make those eyes at me it won’t work this time… if I could take you with me I would but where I am going I need to walk alone but I will be fine the ancestors will be waiting for me when I get there and I will get plenty of rest, we don’t have much time but I can show you where true north is and where it is not, as long as you know where it is and possess the knowledge you can stumble your way toward it from almost anywhere especially when your lost”

“Umm …Dad if one day I can walk as a king does that makes me…. a prince?”

(Laughing) “Of course it does”

“Dad if you need to teach me how to get to true north where is I now right now?

(Laughing) “You’re on the way to true north son, the journey there has many twists and turns and in some places you have to take a detour because bridges have been burnt or swept away by time, true north is never a straight line the secret is to never stop walking and keep your eye on it, to become a man you must arrive at true north”

(The simplicity of child) “Umm Dad if true north is so true and it so constant why isn’t there a straight line to it ? I am just saying, I have to take a detour. What is that is it like a giant bird or dinosaur I can jump on top of and ride all the way to true north like in the books you read to me?”

“Umm what is a detour? … well some times a detour can be a monster or the school master life teaching you something, and you definitely have to ride it (laughing nostalgically) umm remember when we came back from Kariba and the rain had washed away the bridge so we could not go home the same way we came, we had to keep driving until we found another bridge that could take us back to the main road so we could get home, that’s a detour”

“Í remember that Dad, it was pretty fun we saw different things along the way but it took longer to get home and I got confused I didn’t know where we were and I got tired, but I got to see different things”

“That’s a detour for you son, the walk of king has a few of them”

“Okay Dad show where true north is (excited) and when you come back from the Ancestors land will you bring me a gift as you always do, my hero one, I want to be a super hero just like you … one last question dad how do I become a hero like you?”

(Long silence) when the time comes (sad eyes) you will meet the ancestors until then don’t worry about them too much you carry them in your veins, when you look in the mirror they are also looking back at you… (Hesitation) I am not super as you think I am … but to be super hero son it’s all in the boots, Superman boots, Batman Boots, Super fly boots, Jimmy Hendrix boots, Bob Marley boots, Shaft the boooots.”

(In awe) The boots … silly me all this time I thought it was in the cape and wearing your undies outside kind of silly, now I can look cool like you”

“No son it’s all in the boots and a good leather jacket helps; it’s like your cap”

“Oh … boots, leather jacket got it …. Dad can you put me on your shoulders so I can practice flying”

“(laughing) sure son anything you want, accept coming with me to visit the ancestors”

[Flash]

He speaks

“I was never born black, being black is something I was taught to be and I struggle to unlearn daily, before time and eternity I was light, I was born a human being on the continent of Africa in a country known as Zimbabwe, I don’t recall ever being black accept in certain people’s minds, I was a dark chocolate Hershey brown and just as sweet to (with a laugh) wrapped in this skin as a child of the earth, and baked by our sun to perfection. I vaguely remember when… when I was light in this thing and place called time and the ether, and I would sit with the angels and we would banter, laugh and play chess high above the clouds. When I entered the world I lost my memory but the last thing I remember is that I could see my entry and my exit they were written in my heart and course through my veins, and they (the ancients) told me to find her to complete me in this life time. When god made man he breathed life into him, I do not remember a version of the bible where god made man and then called out to Jesus “hey...! Jesus what are you doing boy… it doesn’t matter, can you get me the black paint… the mixed shades…” and poured it down my throat and nose and I lived, unless it’s in some lost scrolls in the Vatican we don’t know about. Being black is a way of thinking, it is an attitude, not who I am. Being black is a bundle of stereotypes of which I can only live with one the legendary “black penis” (Nodding with pride), and if I accept being reduced down to a colour despite that fact I am made in the very essence and image of God, the “I AM” and the rich history of my continent, let alone my tribe which flow in my veins, it scares to know that some people think Africa had no rich history before certain boats pulled up on our shores, then let me be black on my own terms the way he intended me to be beautifully, fearfully, wonderfully, hilariously and uniquely made, I am me in and out, “I” and I mean this to both white and black people,if such people exist in the first place, white people don’t like the way I do black and the black people are always trying telling me how to be blacker like I don’t know how, to both people it seems being black comes with a manual and if so I must of forgotten mine in the womb at birth , you know how black people are, and my parents didn’t have a spare copy, which proves my point if you have to teach me how to be black, obviously I am not born that way or all the “blackness” would come naturally to me, I was born Zimbabwean, Shona, Diva to be more precise, I was born a human being and that’s enough for me! I am going to try and do me and be the best human being I can be until I am called home and back to the light again, being black is way too full of contradictions, it’s hard to keep up ,they keep upgrading the definition and adding app’s I gets lost in my attempts at being black suave, they say being black sets the trend for being cool but my woman always say’s I am hot headed, apparently all black people can dance, but to some people all black men are gangster and thugs, gangster don’t dance, we just pull up our pants and do a the rock away, coffee’s short black, but black men are supposed to be long… I tell you it is confusing out here. If you do not like the way I do black then you do it and leave me to be a human being.

She Speaks

“I was born white to some people but never really to myself, I was born Pink but not “Alicia More” but with all the attitude, white is something you taught me to be but I was never fully convinced of it, I have always being light as far back as he said “let there be” that’s Mr God that is. I was born a human being, female if you must on the continent Africa in a country known as Zimbabwe the great house of stone, I don’t recall being white I am a polished Caramel baked just right by the African sun, you can sniff me to get some of the goodness when Mr God does the cooking. Even worse than being accused of being a white woman after everything women in general all around the world have fought for, I was then farther reduced down to… (Wait for it) … a hair colour which somehow reflects my intellectual capacity, my sexy and sexual drive by length texture and style of my hair, they whoever “they” maybe I just know “they” exist took it to the next level and farther reduced me to my breast size, waist and thighs, I might as well of being a token human being and fulltime chicken and redefined the meaning of white meat (laughing to myself). I would like to meet the misogynistic ass’s who started this labelling, question umm… How would he feel whoever he was about a label? I declare you of the bald race and as you are bald we shall all assume you have low sex drive and a short penis… the shoe doesn’t feel so comfortable now does it when on the other foot, assholes shifting your insecurities onto me!

[The sound screeching brakes] Sorry I just had a moment, I am back, anyhow I remember a time when I was light I would sit above the clouds and time it just right, so I could steal cupid’s arrows and he would try and catch before I could stab the humans in the heart and if he did catch me he would tickle me and we would laugh, I could see my entry and my exit from the world and they the light keepers told me to find him to complete us and me. If I am white and I am covered in his blood, why can’t I see the red stains umm? Once upon a time I wore white shoes, pants and a tee shirt and stood against a white wall and closed my eyes to be invisible, but somehow they could still see me ... it left me confused about my whiteness, after my attempt to be a chameleon failed I decided maybe I needed to bleach before and after each attempt until I get it right. My whiteness has always confused me, I dance with the rhythm of Africa, I love Asian food, I teach Española, my favourite place in the world other than home is India, this white thing is very confusing but I do know for certain I am African, I was born in cradle of humanity, watered by her breasts raised in her sun schooled by her wisdom. I don’t like being confused, I don’t think I have ever been white, just a plain and simple human being.

They Speak

“We come from The Great House of stone where the people walk with the wind and we talk with the sky, as a civilization we existed before Egypt we used math, fire and ice to break stone and build a home which has stood the test of time for eons, way before Egypt, Aztec and the Chinese, and before then we were light, we were born human beings ... (a moment to think what does that really mean?) Human beings man and woman complete, on the continent of Africa the cradle of the world. If I recall correctly when we were light she was dusk and I was dawn and sometimes we would meet if not in the afternoon then at night and we would just talk, (laughing) she would smile and sometimes I would dance and then we would part with a kiss and the promise of meeting again later on in the day we called those moments dusk and dawn, the sun and the moon. The last thing the angels said to me when I entered time was to “find her” and “find him” so that we would be complete and vice versa, they never told us, or maybe they should of warned us about this colour thing, its confusing and these colours have left us both with scars on our skin and our heart simply because they don’t understand when she sees me and I see her we see light, I see a woman a precious gift and she sees a real man, her covering, we see someone we love not black not white not green not yellow just someone you love and loves you back . From my understanding we are “free” and free to “love who we want how we want” and both come at a very great cost, freedom and love that is, a cost that isn’t money, you didn’t pay for it, you have no right to take it from us, we don’t believe we saw you hanging on a cross and I don’t see you as the light. We can agree to attest that we were born human beings, Zimbabwe is the country I arrived in time on, she is found on the continent of Africa, and before that as we have always been light, we just live in human bodies. Unfortunately for now we are bodies in society, one painted black and the other white by perception, but we are grown folk and in love. Therefore, before we leave you, do the things that grown folk in love do, I am leave a smile on her face but she will be walking funny (departing laughing). Free your mind, open your eyes, feel with your heart, know with your soul and speak from your spirit.

Ether stands shirtless in front of the bathroom mirror; his finger slowly traces a scar that runs diagonally down his brown chest from one side to the other. When his finger reaches the end of the blemish it lingers there for a moment, his eyes close, his neck bows down and he lets go of a deep sigh as a painful memory of a past time trudges through his mind like a weary soldier returning from war traumatized, happy the wars over, not sure of his new role in the world. A smile forms on his face as her arms snake around him from behind, he can feel her nipples press into his back and he likes that, it was their thing, her gentle breath rises off the back of his neck and her finger tips trace over his chest, over the same scar as if following him home from the same war to the same apex trying to find peace, there is a pause as their hands interlink slowly, their hands look like piano keys but the only sound they can hear is each other’s heartbeat just the way they liked it and they linger in the moment for a while. They stand in the silence looking like one rather strange tree deeply rooted in love, grounded in a deep understanding of each other, existing in an alternate universe where race didn’t exist nor the hatred and fear that accompanied it as aliens, and in the middle of them … well as is with the law of nature strange trees can only produce strange fruit, because they themselves once were strange fruit just of a different kind.

Detta “are you okay?”

Ta, “I am fine … I was just having a moment; I remember …?”

Detta “shah… don’t remember … remember that scars mean you have been to war, you survived, you healed, you are here and your all mine and I am all yours that all you need to remember, the battles we fight today and win are the battles our child won’t have to fight tomorrow (pause) Mr Daddy to be”.

Ta “(Laughing,) “I like that… Mr Daddy to be, I guess I can’t be your Daddy anymore then, there just might isn’t enough Daddy to go around? But I can still own “IT” right (she bites his shoulder) I know … I know what I need to remember, I just wish some wars didn’t need fighting in the first place, sometimes I like to think that those who went before us... they paid the price in full so we would not have to cash a bad cheque of insufficient funds in humanity and morality and have to repeat that history… that his-story, we might not be repeating history just his- story the one openly seen but unspoken of, publicly condemned but condoned openly and painfully tolerated depending on which side of the whip or bullet you are on, depending on if you were the one speaking or the one being spoken to… but what scares me the most is the silence of the countless people in his-story who stood aside and do nothing. His-story is different when the lion talks about the hunt and not the hunter”

Detta “for our seed we fight racism sexism all the -ism, but this time we take off the serpent, and then skin the bitch and make a belt or boots of it”

They laugh …

“I see you tomorrow” he said as walked out the kitchen the smell of deep fried oil and fries seemed his apparel and deodorant, he was tired and walked home humming a soft tune to self.. a soft melody with a tune that’ seemed to speak to the soul I guess he was having a conversation with self with a humble smile I am not sure but that was who he was i presume .. He reached home .. And collapsed on the sofa for a while.. Then he reached over and picked up the JD twisted the lid and let the liquid slowly hit the soul. “whoa… haaa ”.. Again the foolish sheepish smile as he lay the guitar in his lap like lady needing cuddles .. it was obvious this instrument or the sound that came from it where simply an extension of his soul ..

He picked himself up in one hand the guitar in the other the JD, he made his way up to roof top.. the stars where out the moon was three quarter full he toasted the heavens and took another gulp before he lay down playing a melody that surpassed the flesh and touched the soul .. kind of like BB king talking with Lucile if you know what I mean .. the world faded away and there was honesty pain and happiness could sit together like old friends having tea.. or brandy .. There was honesty and communion and for those who can see with third the universe opened up to be read.

In this place in his head expression existed untamed naked like a flame consuming air yet giving light he was in his element he put the guitar down and wiped out the flute .. a Vaughn the air in lungs and the liquid in his veins the paint the search for truth or denying of …the swish of the brush .. as played the melody he walked with the wind and talked with clouds shone with moon and (pause) sang with the wolfs …. And then there was silence .. why simply be cause he was passing out …

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