CRISIE HUTCHINGS

“Who am I”?

The question rages through the generations

Through the ache of lost identity

Where the mirror can’t affirm us

And all we are is defined by the horror we’ve been through

Even our own hearts at such a loss

we sell our soul to public opinion

acceptance and approval.

What have we become?

Not ourselves for sure

Not our own, or owned by us

But sold

into slavery to the “oughts” and the “shoulds”

to the “have’s” and the “have nots”

We’ve become our own enemy

Siding with them

seeing ourselves through the eyes of the takers

the rapers, those who murder with their disapproval

The weak of us, who are always the best of us

Those who mourn

who know how to comfort

those who are meek

who know how to lift another

out of despair b/c they’ve been there

or worse, been put there.

What shall we say?

Shall we speak

up?

Or remain silent to this broken place in our world

Or maybe grab our picket sign

and shout obscenities in the name of God?

the worst, in my opinion!

What then shall we do?

I say we stop speaking with hardened hearts

and start sharing our bread with the broken

those who are wasted with the abuse of others

who have no strength left

to defend themselves

to lift themselves

who can’t pay us

pat us, or put us in a position

who can’t give us reputation but rather

will cause us to be spoken against

hmmm?

I say those are the ones who are the best of us

who know they are broken

and don’t pretend

with the pretenders

who don’t slight with the slighters

who just are

they just are

It’s time to rise up to the lowest place

of slave and servant of all

That, my friend is who we are!!