SMALL WORRIES These things are so silly, right? To stay up at night wondering how to rid yourself of hairy legs? Or the one strand growing out of the mole on your face? I know. I met a man the other day and every time he laughed, he brought his hand up to cover his mouth. I don’t know if he knew, but it drew attention to the very thing he was trying to hide – God forgive me – the ugliest teeth I have ever seen. True. Is that not how we all are? Showing people the one thing we don’t want them to see? But – how do you rid your mind of a fixation? Tell me. Is it to shake your head till the memories fall out? Because I am constantly trying to remember the first time someone said I was ‘too’ black. It must have happened. Or couldn’t dance. Or wasn’t as good-looking as my brother. It must have happened, because we are all born naked and just fine, but before long we’re spending time hiding things. So, just for a second, forget the big questions of our Universe. What I really want to know is how do you fall asleep certain you won’t wake up the next day thinking the same thoughts? It’s a small thing, you see, this niggling obsession at the back of one’s mind, till the day comes when it traps you; that day when it has you sitting there with the right answer on the tip of your tongue but instead of raising your hand you find yourself calculating the risks of standing out. So, let me tell you what. Sometimes, I imagine that if I was born one-eyed it is because I will one day come to a bridge only a one-eyed man can cross. That is what I tell myself anyway. I say, Dike, there is a cure for cancer. Yes. Somewhere in this infinite Universe there is someone (or something) that carries it around in its DNA without even knowing. Who knows? Maybe that’s why my skin is so black. Maybe that’s why I write poetry. Maybe that’s why I’m shy and soft spoken. Maybe that’s why I am this exact configuration of oddities. Maybe I didn’t roll off a production line. Maybe I was handcrafted. Maybe, I am a key born in advance of the door I was made to open. Who knows? Wait. You don’t have to tell me. I know. I could be lying to myself. But, in my mind, it is a small price to pay for freedom – the freedom to stand naked in front of a full-length mirror and accept everything I see. Can you imagine? Even these scars. To, one day, look up and thank God for them. Can you imagine?
Posted on: Fri, 25 Jul 2014 21:02:37 +0000
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