Bruce Snead

That’s the name 
To be found
On social media;
Not Bruce Lee,
Not Bruce Leon,
But Bruce Snead,
And perhaps this one’s 
The real one,
And, well, 
All I really have to tell you
Is even if I barely knew you,
I’m glad I knew you,
A man in the time 
I learned many things,
Who symbolized
Many things,
But a man,
All the same,
A man like any other,
In a strange collection of friends,
And in the end,
That’s who you were,
And I’m sorry it took me so long
To think of you that way.

That is the shame
I now correct,
Not that I saw you 
As the pimp,
As the token,
Or even that I didn’t even see you
As the dancer,
But that for so long
I saw you as the victim,
And yet there you were
And there you are,
A man among men,
A friend among friends,
And I never allowed you 
To be merely that,
And I didn’t see it that way
Until now,
And this original sin
Now acknowledged
Rests lighter on my soul.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Twenty Years

Twenty years later and this is still the only day in American history like this. (Except the burning of the White House, War of 1812, 8/24/14, a response to York.) That is what  we felt in those days. In WWII this is what Europe looked like, a continent. This is what it looks like when war happens. This is what traumatized  a nation. In twenty years  many things have happened since. Incredibly, it took no time at all to forget how that day felt. No time at all, and there were people who argued it was staged. That’s the world we live in. No time at all and politicians started thinking, “We will lose power if this remains the narrative.” No time at all and the reality of a war became a preamble to twenty years  of claiming it was America that turned aggressor. Twenty years and they still work to identify  the bodies. Twenty years of victims. Twenty years, a lifetime  for a new generation  born after and growing up in the shadow of fallen towers. Twenty years after a morning in which I wa
Read more

The Rat Was In the White House

The rat was in the White House. Vile, Diseased, Infested, Vermin. And yet for all that There was also Something exotic, Challenging every preconception, And sometimes that Provokes Inspiration, Shaking loose The doldrums, The humdrum, The routine. It was an interesting four years. And it will be For many years To come. History won’t soon Forget. Although, You know, Stranger things Have happened.
Read more

All My Favorite Colors

I don’t know, I’ve never particularly  Had a problem Integrating the world. But that’s the problem That so often happens  For others, And I think It’s the biggest problem. It’s great to know How things are different  But to keep them Locked up in little boxes, Separate, Apart, Deliberately, Defiantly, Angrily, Defensively, As if something will be lost... And I get it, Sometimes  There have been efforts To lose identity  By force, To integrate By eliminating  A minority’s features, And that was always wrong. But it’s also wrong To repudiate The melting pot. It’s wrong To rob yourself Of the ability To embrace unfamiliar things Because you think  It might threaten  The integrity Of what you’ve got. But listen, You have no integrity If you fear such a world. You lose far more Than you retain If you hide from The possibilities. If all you experience  Is an echo chamber Then eventually  You go deaf. So this is a message For all my sisters and my brothers.
Read more