The Black Man I Hate

It was in the furthest most depths of my soul
that I first recognized I was becoming the black man my own mother would not condone
How did I get here I often wonder?
How could I cause pain I’m called to heal?
How could I oppress what I was sent to deliver?
How could I sell out to my own evil carnality –
Leaving others to bare a cross made by my cleaver mastery?

How did I become the Black Man I Hate?

This time it was my baggage that caused the drama
that placed my walk, confession, faith. and relationships six feet under.
I see the scoundrel every morning
who should be found guilty for his criminal activities that caused mourning.
Another black man found guilty
But not by racial hostility
Not by social economic circumstance
Not from never getting a chance
Not from a lack of education
Or a father who spread his seed across the nation.
But by his own heart, neglect, choices, and pride.

How did I become the Black Man I Hate?

Please forgive me for all the trouble I’ve caused.
Believe it or not our reality was not my intention at all.
But that was before I realized I was already in the middle of my fall.
I have found out that the only difference between a Good Black Man
and a Bad Black Man is one decision.
Just one,
One misstep,
One mistake,
One distraction,
One trespass,
One sin,
Just one…

How did I become the Black Man I Hate?

And so, here I am in a place of desperate need.
For I am the person who the preacher longs to reach
I am the one who has wondered from his destiny
causing the creation of new enemies.
That’s right another Black man has become my enemy.
There is another Black man I don’t wish to see in the streets.
For I fear the harm he may cause me and the others I love.
The only problem is…this Black Man is me.

How did I become the Black Man I Hate?

To be continued……