Naked Thoughts

It’s too late. There is not enough air here. I can still hear those words. And ever since then I’ve agreed. I must have been 10. She completely articulated what I’ve always felt and what would continue to feel the rest of my life. Short of breathe. Short of life. Her mama left her in the hands of a capable, but heart-broken father. My mom left me alone in the “care” of her. When I first heard the story I felt such empathy for another neglected daughter. I secretly hoped her mother found the air to breathe wherever she took of too, though as well. And I felt guilty. I wish she had her mother more, though.

Short. So short. So many people falling of short where it shouldn’t be allowed. Lost children. Pain. Pain. Pain. Broken people breed confused people. Hate doesn’t help. I never hated her. How could I? Am I mad now, yes. Am I disappointed? No. She did what she knew. Are the traumatized the exception of all folks being held above accountability? What is it that makes a child have so much empathy and pity for their parent? What is it that makes another child have so much anger and animosity toward their parent? I now wonder the stories of homeless addicts. Of every stranger.

I wonder what Steve would say. What would T.D. say. Hell what would Phil say. Is a woman not capable of putting aside her compassion for other women enough to acknowledge and admit to me just what happened here? What the hell happened?

She said Sarah’s color was yellow and not pink today. I couldn’t agree any more. A bright and sunshiney presence. Souls are just souls. Spirits are just spirits. Everything else just fucks us up. Even minds… but when minds collide together it’s a beautiful rarity. It’s much more than being like-minded. Maybe it’s just love.

There are promises life goes on. The scars are everywhere. On me. On you. On them. All over the world, too. There are societal scars. And wounds.

We’re in trouble. We’ve been in trouble. We cannot escape the trouble if we are aware. We can’t help but be a part of this trouble. I left most of the other trouble with Lynn. Pasha tries to be a re-formed Lynn. We are one, but Pasha has a better name. A name that belongs and identifies. My given name never belonged. It never felt like me. Pasha is me. Pasha will win and it will still be Lynn.

I almost forgot. Nelson said a person can’t be too woke if they believe in the bible. His Gran was surprised and asked him why. I asked for clarification if he believed in a God of any kind. He said to me: I believe that the black man and woman are God. We’re the oldest race on the earth and have the highest levels of melanin which has been proven to be linked to spiritual energy (the human soul). That in addition to our natural genetic advantages in literally every area and the fact that the black woman is the only one with the ability to birth children with any physical phenotype or skin tone (due to a gene ironically enough named the “Eve” gene) that’s where all signs point. Also add in that we’ve been worshipped as Gods in major civilizations on every continent.

That’s amazing, but I also told him we cannot determine how woke someone is based on their beliefs. That I know some folks who are incredibly woke and educated and believe in Christ. That I personally believe the bible was rewritten to abuse and control us all but I still have a personal relationship with the god I know and love. He’s right on so many points. Everyone debated him, but he made some inarguable points.

A few feelings here. Stay your ass woke. Don’t let this world scam you. Black folks and women especially.  Nelson has a powerful name, he is a great young man and God is love.

I’ve got to download Doug Wamble’s version of this song in full length, because I wish all these things, too:

I wish I knew how it would feel to be free
I wish I could break all the chains holding me
I wish I could say all the things that I should say
Say ’em loud say ’em clear
For the whole wide world to hear

I wish I could share
All the love that’s in my heart
Remove all the bars that keep us apart
And I wish you could know how it is to be me
Then you’d see and agree that every man should be free

I wish I could be like a bird in the sky
How sweet it would be if I found I could fly
Well I’d soar to the sun and look down at the sea
And I’d sing cos I know how it feels to be free

I wish I knew how it would feel to be free
I wish I could break all the chains holding me
And I wish I could say all the things that I wanna say
Say ’em loud say ’em clear
For the whole wide world to hear
Say ’em loud say ’em clear
For the whole wide world to hear
Say ’em loud say ’em clear
For the whole wide world to hear

One love one blood
One life you’ve got to do what you should
One life with each other
Sisters, brothers

One love but we’re not the same
We got to carry each other Carry each other
One One One One One…

I knew how it would feel to be free
I knew how it would feel to be free



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