Ever Forward (2025)
Since I have the honor of being invited into this room,
then I want to say what needs to be said,
For the living and the dead.
There is a cloud of witnesses who cry out from the past,
who call us from what lacks,
Like mercy, sweet ever-loving mercy.
One step forward, two steps back
still we go forward,
Ever forward.
Following the long, winding moral arc toward justice
Raining mercy, sweet everlasting mercy,
dripping down making mortar out of mud
The way is paved solid yet not with bricks
but with prints,
prints stamped solid
Stamped by
School shoes
Soldier’s boots
Dancing shoes
Tennis sneaks
Baller cleats
Bare feet
And even a Preacher’s shiny oxfords
And a Rabbi’s dusty sandals.
They’ve all left a mark,
we don’t measure the arc
in how hard you stomp but how long it lasts
But alas next to the tracks
I see another sign,
falling from sky
Now slithering by
Whispering a lie
Asking questions like, “surely you won’t die??” and “Who is my brother?”
I’d love to blame him, but what if what lies and divides resides inside
Me
You
Us
Them
And so we each do our part
to transform the inward heart,
the one Howard Thurman said was surrounded by a vast sea, on an island, on an altar, the place of divine consent
The place from which we pray that He will walk with us,
Transforming the valley of trouble into that gateway of hope
I know that the Apostle John saw it, on his island he looked up
“And there before him was a great multitude that no one could count, from every tribe, every nation, every people and every language.
And they were all standing before the Lamb. (The one that was slain) They were wearing robes that called them blameless and holding palm branches in their hands”
Is the purpose to end a sin
Or to begin again
With worship as vision
And strength
I found Dr. King’s book called “A Strength to Love”
in a used library bookstore 20 years ago.
For 1 dollar, these words could be bought and brought home.
For almost no currency at all, they could be brought home and read, lamented, prayed over.
Almost no currency at all, besides time.
It’s time
It’s time to invite love into our hearts and extract fear.
Love can never flourish in a heart filled with fear.
If our time and poetry and thought is a currency,
than we are each the bank.
Holding onto the deposit with tightly gripped hands
It’s time to spend it.
The time. The poetry. The love.
Where does the urgency come from?
It’s hard to muster, especially when I’m comfortable enough and I’m ‘not a racist’, and don’t feel lost, not considering what it will cost?
To ask for forgiveness
Forgive me. Forgive me.
For not being uncomfortable.
Is all of this my problem or is the fact that it’s not my problem my problem.
Forgive my grandpa too, he talked fondly of our ancestors, and especially ol’ Stone Wall Jackson in our direct line
and he handed out certain lines,
passed them out along with the jellybeans.
Every tribe, every person. Clean and blameless.
The holy, clean, pure and blameless is not a line, is not a color, it’s not a race, it’s not from a place.
It’s an idea. It’s a hope.
They say a hope deferred will make a heart grow sick,
Maybe today we just cry and say how sick we are.
Hope is deferred. But Hope is a promise and pin.
We wear on our chest.
Breath it in and wear it.
Since I have the honor of being invited into this room,
then I want to say what needs to be said,
For the living and the dead.
You see there’s a cloud of witnesses who cry out from the past,
who call us from what lacks,
Like mercy. Sweet ever-loving mercy.
One step forward, two steps back
still we go forward.
Ever forward.
