Being at war with you is being at war with self. Since our is connection is that powerful, peace with you essential. Let's establish it. I'm ready to call a truce. I'll start by acknowledging your truths. Life is hard for you and often you are not heard. You know diamonds are created from pressure, but you wonder if I know only a diamond can scratch another diamond's surface. My words cut deep; they're not polishing. I'm abrasive. The pressure from without and within coupled with the hurts you don't speak of doesn't feel like shaping. You walk through fire in the world then you're tried by fire in our home. You love me more than I know, but your peace is better protected when you're gone. And that's baffling. If it weren't for your principles, integrity, and love, you would sever this umbilical connection to me because it hasn't been nourishing you lately. Some days you wonder, "
Damn, does she hate me?" You carry the torch to guide, provide, and protect. You never saw it modeled. You're learning as you go and doing your best. You feel me so deeply its as though I'm a valve in your chest. You wish I understood that I'm capable of making you feel superhuman able or like you're bringing nothing at all to the table. I acknowledge this and apologize. I realize my aptitude to antagonize. I don't show it like I should, but I empathize with your struggles. I hurt whenever you suffer. I love you enough to lay down my arms and defenses, to stop talking and listen, to sit with you in our individual and collective to truths, to honor the king in you, and help you rehab the little boy. Being at peace with you is being at peace with self. Since our is connection is that powerful, loving you essential. And I do. I love you.
P.S.: I wrote this particularly for the black men in my life and/or who have been a part of my life. It is, in part, a response to myself and something I wrote years ago. It is ultimately an open, sincere apology to and acknowledgment of those beautiful black men who have shaped me for better or worse.
