When Our Hate Consumes

It's crazy how every individual can see the world so very differently. Instead of seeing one picture, we all see millions of different pictures. It makes us have different beliefs, different loves, different irritations, different truths. So then my question is how can we move PAST this?

How can we come together as one? Do we even believe that this is possible? Or is it easier to sit in the comfort of your truth when you aren't affected by the tragedy of the truth of others?

We have all been brought up in a society where we feel things are fine as they are. This is just the way that it is. The running theme seems to be "Ya'll still mad about slavery? We've changed a lot since then."

Hell yea I'm still mad about slavery!

But a more correct assessment of my feelings is that I'm still HURT by slavery. I'm still HURT by lynchings. I'm still HURT when I read stories in history of affluent black communities being burnt to the ground. I'm still HURT that I feel this could happen today. I'm still HURT that my sons, my fathers, my brothers, my sisters, my aunts, my mothers are getting killed every day.

I'm still HURT that just yesterday I had to comment on a post "This is insensitive." to one of MY friends on Facebook, that happened to be white, who commented on the reaction to George Floyd's murder.

We're HURT that although we're HURT it seems our pain is seen as something we should just get over.

We should shut up and do better, and then maybe we wouldn't have to be killed.

We wouldn't have to be murdered.

We wouldn't have to die.

Over and over again.

Why would the value of anyone's life be conditional? How does that make ANY sense?

I'll ask again.


It is THIS issue that always brings us back to outrage.

It is THIS issue that always brings us back to tragedy.

The lack of love is the problem.

We only love ourselves and those that look like us. Those that talk like us. Believe like us.

But anyone that is different we choose to hate, either publicly or in private.

The truth is energy does not die.

So whatever it is that you feel inside will ALWAYS show itself.

No matter how much you deny, you smile, you deflect.

We will see you.

The police officer that killed George Floyd, yep we saw him.

If he had any love for George, he would have responded in some kind of way while he was screaming "I CAN'T BREATHE!"

All those around probably couldn't help due to that they were most likely paralyzed from the fear that they could be next.

So instead of love saving George, hate killed him.

The overwhelming hate that exists in the atmosphere of our world for our black men.

The ones who protect us.

The ones who provide for us.

The ones who love us.

The ones who hold us in their arms as we hold them back so damn tightly.

Sometimes when I wake up, I watch Stetson sleep. I take in the majesty of his presence. I get up and walk around to kiss him.

Because the value of his life is not based on a list of rules that he needs to follow.

The value of his life just...IS

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