Refusing to turn blessings into curses

Lord, I hear of showers of blessings

Thou art scattering full and free

Showers thirsty souls refreshing

Let some drops now fall on me…

 

But the most pronounced drops

were far from sacred gifts, indeed.

My mama, black and young,

and woman and love,

experienced the thunderous descent

of father’s internalized shame inverted.

 

He must have heard loud prayers

and pleas for blessings

but confused them for war cries.

 

Who told hand to turn to weapon?

Who told tears to signal caution?

Who told couch and floor and step to become landing posts for brutalized body?

Who told boot to kick beautiful face against stove and forget to pound dirt on grounds?

 

Father’s hands were not made to war against mama’s body.

No.

He forgot that temples were not made to be pillaged and destroyed.

Daddy’s mouth was not a bow.

No.

He forgot that souls were not made to be shot down with arrows

which pierced mama’s heart

which shot through pillows to terrified son’s ears

which landed in his daughters’ minds

which may have convinced them that hands, tears, couches, floors, steps, and boots

were tools and spaces for battle.

 

Who told blessing to become curse?

Who told man to take dominion over woman?

Who told him to beat her?

In front of son

In front of daughters

In front of friends

Because she purchased too many toys and not obedience

Because she talked back and refused to mute voice

Because she desired love in place of fear.

 

Son has now become man

and he refuses to be Adam.

He refuses to make her Eve.

He will not pillage her land

And feed on her bounty

And use hands that were made for touch to war

And cause tears to fall as signals for pain instead of bliss

And use couch and floor and step as battlegrounds for power

And use boots to stump out insecurity and not the snow

And turn blessings into curses that curse that destroy that deadens

that which the universe has allowed to be

to live

to love.

 

I am a son

who has become a man

but I am not Adam

and woman is not eve.

We are not Gods

wielding power to turn

her blessings into curses.

 

Lord, I hear of showers of blessings

Thou art scattering full and free

Showers thirsty souls refreshing

Let some drops now fall on me…