That anger, that pain...

A reflective poem on our personal struggles...and if they're heard by others.

It dawned on me

Many moons ago

That anger, that pain...

Is nothing more than saying

Where did my child go?

Why do hearts yearn

For those who cause

That anger, that pain...

Why do we bathe in water

That doesn't make us clean?

We're so desperate to be seen

To be heard

From that anger, that pain...

To show that one individual

We're doing fine from a visual

That does not represent

Our lives; that anger, that pain...

Only a fleeting moment

Forever lost in time

Were you happy?

Or proving a point?

When you answer, "How are you?"

How often do you say your truth?

Expressing that anger, that pain...

These times are for listening

More than ever before

But are we really listening...

To that anger, that pain?

--

I wrote this poem, today actually, because, as usual, I let the words flow out of me. And, for some reason, today was a day in which I needed to express my feelings.

I think a lot of what I wrote is relatable and personal to everyone; but at the same time it's a reflection on Black Lives Matter too. I have a black man in my life who is a father to me, so I listen to what he has to say. I've listened to his story.

I was telling him the other day, I thought it was interesting, and a little sad...when I was dating a Brazilian girl, I remember her, and a few other Brazilian women, tell me that a lot of guys they'd date didn't have the slightest interest in their culture. They simply didn't care and didn't want to learn about it. They didn't want to listen.

I acknowledge I'm a bit different because cultures and different ways of life absolutely fascinate me. I genuinely want to learn about cultures and I realize, as I write this, I've been this way my whole life.

Humanity has so much to offer and we can learn so much from one another if we just listen. But we seldom do. We could relate to each other more if we just listened with an open heart.

I relate this to the Black American experience, where, if we showed a genuine interest in their not only their culture, but their struggles, their pain, it'd open up our eyes a bit. We'd all the sudden become relatable. And the irony behind it, in my experience, is that if you show a genuine interest in someone else's culture, they want to share it with you! It's such a beautiful thing. It makes me cry.

I still have faith in humanity; we're all human beings with complex emotions, feelings, dreams, struggles, anger, and pain. If we just open our hearts and listen to each other, maybe things can change.

On a more microscopic level, this is a reflection on social media, and our individual attempts to get others' attention. I've been guilty of it, we all have. But how many of us are actually truly happy? It can be a bit of a, for lack of a better word, mind fuck, because it seems like everyone else is doing so well, but I know that I'm not. So what am I doing wrong?

As a white male, I've noticed a lot of men, in general, put up this guard, this facade, that we don't have emotions. Or that we aren't allowed to express them. Through speaking, and listening, I've come to realize they're not all these hardened emotionless people. They have a lot of the same fears, anxieties, and sadness I've experienced. But if we never had those conversations, I'd just assume I'm the only one feeling those ways. How can we relate if we never have a dialogue? If we never listen?

It's time for us to listen and connect with each other. There's so much about us that's beautifully different, yet beautifully the same; one love.

-JTC