John Gregory Evans © 2019
It remains not mine to say whether I would pity a colorful word of verb and noun, or, from where it may come, or the color of its skin, for I have seen the Lord, and, know him to be of spirit not acquainted with such superficialities. I believe in you O soul of the deepest of transparent hearts, only to reach out in love for our lovers with skin as dark as the night. The ocean is deep, and so may a man’s heart burn in love for his neighbor of color and his words that reflect a right to truths the earth refuses to hear.
I become saddened in knowing the earth was in despair, and know from whence it came, where colonial powers for a haughty jurisdiction influenced only by fear lingers, why, I hear my brother’s cry, not at a distance but very close by. For man or woman to write with an open heart, infused only by the transparent Spirit of God, may we come to know the justice that suffuses us all.
Time, and time again, truth has been revealed to me by men and women who offer up a rose, whether brown, or black, or red, or white, the rose remains the same soft luminance of light – undefined by a single atom of gratuitous action, I must concede to the truth of Absolutes, where, right is right, and wrong is wrong, but, yet I say, the truth shall always be the truth.
Write on, dear brothers and sisters of faith…your truth has already been heard within the beauty of the writer’s word. A poet’s truth shall always know. Our experience is of an invincible and indestructible value. Our truths from an oppressive state must be made known to this regimental world into the hearts of the eremite, hermit, loner from fright.
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