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Dear Old Black Man at what point will you admit where you have failed?
Where we all have failed to achieve the goals of our rememberable past.
These accomplishments that you hold so dear to your heart.
That dwells beneath the melanin that is protecting the legacy that you speak so highly of.
At what point do we bring up the abandonment?
The insecurities that has now plagued us, the disconnection of what once was then…that has now became our own demise now?
Where did you go?
At what point did you think that it was okay to walk away and return without any explantation?
Where work seemed more important and the sins of the world became your best friend.
These lessons that you speak of,
Where were those lessons when ears were there to listen?
To learn, grow and build upon this foundation.
At what point was it wrong to tell a man that in order for me to continue on I am going to need your help because I cannot do it by myself?
When did you drop teacher and pick up enemy?
What day was it when the black woman became your enemy?
What time was it when not understanding and not finding understanding was no longer an option?
Who said that none of those things mattered?
While you were walking the streets and placing your hat.
Rocking to the beat and swinging your fists.
I was sitting on the porch
My goals were sitting on sheets of paper waiting to be shared with you.
But you had no encouraging words…you told me that my dream of becoming someone who I knew would be important was nothing but false hopes and dreams.
Be a baller, be that runner, be that playa,
Be that but do not be who you need to be.
Dear Old Black Man you never allowed me to be me.
I was ignorant to the fact that I knew nothing about my past.
I accepted my blackness the same way I accepted the air that is circulating within my lungs…
The blood in these veins, that DNA that holds everything that makes me into the man that I am today.
Dear Old Black Man I am not your enemy,
But I am hurt by your past mistakes.
I am hurting because to ask is to give
Some of the most important things of myself to the world.
I hurt because instead of improving we still continue to hinder.
Litter the ground with lies and decent..
Leaving ourself bound to contentment, while continuing to blame everyone of our own short comings
And not ourselves when we have clearly failed the very ones who have repeatedly and continue to say “That this is enough.” “I have had enough.”
Plaguing our minds with wanting greatness but not being willing to contribute to the growth and development of ourselves.
But always ready to turn up.
We would rather disown, and continue holding onto the hurt instead of using it to learn, grow and change the narrative.
Dear Old Black Man….I am not here to fight with you.
But why should I lay my burdens down and converse with you
Find encouragement within your words when as soon as I turn around and walk away.
You will make it your business to talk down upon my name
You will say that I do not understand, that I am too young, that I am just foolish.
That your way is the right way…when in all honestly our way together holds more truth then they do separately.
Dear Old Black Man I had no man there that showed me how to be a man.
I had a strong black woman who taught me how to respect a woman.
While you were dealing with the world I was giving her hell because I needed you there.
But whenever she said that she needed me, there was not one mountain that I would not move for her.
There was not one tear that I would not catch, no fight I would not fight just to show her that although I was not the greatest…
As long as she continued to love me I knew that I could be better.
Dear Old Black Man there are two sides to every story
Although you may see the world in one way, there is an Old Black Woman that sees it a different way.
So before you try to tell me anything more about the people of my past and place anything else at my feet.
Have her with you…
Because can no leader teach if he is unwilling to learn…
And I learn each and everyday.
