Remember Me

 

When the dust settles,
when the smoke clears,
when the blood has dried,
the ground has split,
and the clouds have shed
their last tear,
remember the Rock on which I stood.

Find me in the dirt of this earth
and rehearse the way I pulled
the Sword from the stone,
the way I let Truth split me,
flesh from soul, heart from bone,
mind from fear, life from breath.
Remember
that I was here,
that I stared at Oblivion
until it bowed,
that I crafted good with these hands
until kings and towers of night
became my footstool.

When you find my tombstone,
read my name,
and your skin will goosebump
at the weight of my faith.
You will remember me
by the silence of my step,
and the quake left by my fist,
by the light that filled every inch
of the Shadow I found rest in,
by the softness of my kiss,
and the roar that echoed from my brown eyes,
the honey that flowed through my brown skin,
the coconut that danced and mixed with my black, nappy curls.

From my words,
you will remember how long, how low these balls hung,
but from my scars,
you will remember the love I brought
to every battlefield--every demon, 
every doubt, 
every peon who tried
to get from this world
without giving.

Remember me as the adopted son,
the boy with the middle name that meant
no one could handle him but God.

Remember me as the boy
with the slingshot in one hand
and Goliath’s dripping head in the other.

Remember me as the boy
who breathed enough audacity
to believe
he was going to be great,
not because he feared the opposite,
not because he felt pressure from the outside,
but because deep down,
something in his soul always knew:
there was never any other option for him,
and he preferred it that way.

So when the seals open, when the brass calls,
remember me.

When the moon crumbles,
and the sun has dimmed,
when this air has turned thick
with the lies of men,
find the last bits of me on this earth
and learn what I wish I would’ve whispered
to every wound and evil I’ve met since birth:
you too shall pass.

Find me in the dirt of this earth
and rehearse the way I walked
in darkness that flung false gods and dead thoughts and half truths
and told me to choose
between fate and will,
as if I wasn’t made for both.


 

When the womb of this world has grown
still
from affliction,
and sloth, and cynicism,
and cowardice,
remember every spark of life that has touched you,
stare into the black of night, the heart of pride,
speak your word,
and walk.

Because they and I and you
are worth remembering.

 

Cover Photo by Kay on Unsplash