Hope
Race, privilege - authenticity? Belonging? Permission to grieve?
Who am I who has so much, who am I to cry?
I cry hearing the pain of my sister
I have not lived it
I chose to give up what I can easily choose to take back. Rankism.
My education, my family network opens many doors others cannot access.
But I cry for that reality to change.
Can my cry be a trumpet blast in halls of complacency?
Can the cry of a middle class white girl on behalf of the sad broken state of our justice system, our schools, our neighborhoods and families, be heard and deemed lagitament?
Does it matter of they are?
I think so, but then I wonder, by who?
My friend is being sold. Abused. Exploited!!
No, I am not.
I have never been raped or molested, but my friend, my sister, has and is and This Must Stop!
I carry so many stories in my heart and they are heavy.
I cry out with a cry of empathy
No, I will never fully understand
So I will not try to be your voice but rather sound the trumpet, shake the ground,
open the cages of systems holding you back,
usher you into the doors I can, and then You cry out Your song of lament,
of truth,
and together we proclaim the song of hope.
"injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere"
If I see the injustice done against you and say nothing, what is that?
If I weep, not on my own behalf but for what is happening to you, am I not showing you I care? That I wish there was some other reality? That I wonder why you and not me and I am sorry for my privilege?
And I do weep on my own behalf in sorrow, regret, appology for what I - my race, my religion and my country have done.
What my government has done and fails to do, what my Church has done and fails to do.
I am part of the problem.
I am so sorry.
But I hear the rumblings of another way possible- in the cry and lament, imagining there must be something better
Do you hear it?
The low, steady heartbeats of hope reverberating in my spirit and yours, calling towards harmony!?
It rises
And I know I must not keep silence!
I invite you to join me in my weeping and my obstinate hope.
Let me not tell your story for you, label or forget you in my rush to sound the trumpet.
You and I together - we will cry and sing of hope.
Race, privilege - authenticity? Belonging? Permission to grieve?
Who am I who has so much, who am I to cry?
I cry hearing the pain of my sister
I have not lived it
I chose to give up what I can easily choose to take back. Rankism.
My education, my family network opens many doors others cannot access.
But I cry for that reality to change.
Can my cry be a trumpet blast in halls of complacency?
Can the cry of a middle class white girl on behalf of the sad broken state of our justice system, our schools, our neighborhoods and families, be heard and deemed lagitament?
Does it matter of they are?
I think so, but then I wonder, by who?
My friend is being sold. Abused. Exploited!!
No, I am not.
I have never been raped or molested, but my friend, my sister, has and is and This Must Stop!
I carry so many stories in my heart and they are heavy.
I cry out with a cry of empathy
No, I will never fully understand
So I will not try to be your voice but rather sound the trumpet, shake the ground,
open the cages of systems holding you back,
usher you into the doors I can, and then You cry out Your song of lament,
of truth,
and together we proclaim the song of hope.
"injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere"
If I see the injustice done against you and say nothing, what is that?
If I weep, not on my own behalf but for what is happening to you, am I not showing you I care? That I wish there was some other reality? That I wonder why you and not me and I am sorry for my privilege?
And I do weep on my own behalf in sorrow, regret, appology for what I - my race, my religion and my country have done.
What my government has done and fails to do, what my Church has done and fails to do.
I am part of the problem.
I am so sorry.
But I hear the rumblings of another way possible- in the cry and lament, imagining there must be something better
Do you hear it?
The low, steady heartbeats of hope reverberating in my spirit and yours, calling towards harmony!?
It rises
And I know I must not keep silence!
I invite you to join me in my weeping and my obstinate hope.
Let me not tell your story for you, label or forget you in my rush to sound the trumpet.
You and I together - we will cry and sing of hope.
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