A Poem
I am normally not into poetry. it's a form of art that is generally too high brow for me, and that most of the time, I find myself unequipped to properly take in the meaning as I don't consider myself to be all that intelligent. Coming across this one though, has rocked me a little. In some ways, it's reaffirmed some of my own beliefs. I think it will take me some time to fully digest this one. Here is the poem in its full text.
I am come of the seed of the people, the people that sorrow;
Who have no treasure but hope,
No riches laid up but a memory of an ancient glory
My mother bore me in bondage, in bondage my mother was born,
I am of the blood of serfs;
The children with whom I have played, the men and women with whom I have eaten
Have had masters over them, have been under the lash of masters,
and though gentle, have served churls.
The hands that have touched mine,
the dear hands whose touch Is familiar to me
Have worn shameful manacles, have been bitten at the wrist by manacles,
have grown hard with the manacles and the task-work of strangers.
I am flesh of the flesh of these lowly, I am bone of their bone I that have never submitted;
I that have a soul greater than the souls of my people’s masters,
I that have vision and prophecy, and the gift of fiery speech,
I that have spoken with God on the top of his holy hill.
And because I am of the people, I understand the people,
I am sorrowful with their sorrow, I am hungry with their desire;
My heart is heavy with the grief of mothers,
My eyes have been wet with the tears of children,
I have yearned with old wistful men,
And laughed and cursed with young men;
Their shame is my shame, and I have reddened for it
Reddened for that they have served, they who should be free
Reddened for that they have gone in want, while others have been full,
Reddened for that they have walked in fear of lawyers and their jailors.
With their Writs of Summons and their handcuffs,
Men mean and cruel.
I could have borne stripes on my body
Rather than this shame of my people.
And now I speak, being full of vision:
I speak to my people, and I speak in my people’s name to
The masters of my people:
I say to my people that they are holy,
That they are august despite their chains.
That they are greater than those that hold them
And stronger and purer,
That they have but need of courage, and to call on the name of their God,
God the unforgetting, the dear God who loves the people
For whom he died naked, suffering shame.
And I say to my people’s masters: Beware
Beware of the thing that is coming, beware of the risen people
Who shall take what ye would not give.
Did ye think to conquer the people, or that law is stronger than life,
And than men’s desire to be free?
We will try it out with you ye that have harried and held,
Ye that have bullied and bribed.
Tyrants… hypocrites… liars!
I don't believe in god, but I do believe that we are all children of the earth. That none of us are better than any others. That we are all equal and should have equal rights and equal access, without segregation and without judgement and prejudice.
I believe that religion has created too much strife for humankind, and that we can still be spiritual, but that holding to this ancient view of one god is holding us back. But if such a being exists, or has existed, or will exist, then every one of us carries a sliver of divinity within us.
But that piece, however small shines with the glory of the divine itself, whether that comes from one being, or whether we and our earth and the stars are that being.
But it isn't just us who carries divinity, it's all living things. Everything from birds and bees, to the largest of mammals carries a spark of de vine.
We as humans are divided by so many things. What we need is unity, but unity frightens us. Unity would be a manifestation of the divine as one being rather than the sliver of it that we carry within us. It would be glory beyond any glory we have known. It would be power beyond all power we could have imagined; however, power purified by a single purpose cannot lead to corruption because the light it brings would be incompatible with the darkness within us.
As humans, we have adapted in so many ways. But so far, we have not adapted to one another. Which name to call god is not important. Who did what millennia ago is not important. What is relevant here is that we have killed, are killing, and will kill each other over details which should be trivial.
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