Why The Real Gotta Go?
Why the real gotta go?
Why, God, I don’t know,
Ride to DC through the Potomac,
I gotta flow,
‘Give life to ones that ain’t got it no mo’.
Black and Vince,
It ain’t been changin’ since,
Your lives were taken away like a face in the mint!
Dead presidents,
No residence,
You was quick to take a life wit’ no hesitance.
Live by the sword and die by it,
But your hood,
You was “reppin’” it!
To the death in it,
To the death with this,
What kind of death is this?
And now your blood stains the streets,
Why was it so effortless?
For one that didn’t know you
To take your breath so quick?
And now we ride for the vengeance,
Ride for the finish,
We fight somethin’ endless,
Our lives are so senseless!
Minds are demented,
And we was just kids then!
The main part of the event I am describing occurred when I was between 11 and 14. My brother told me that most of his friends from his neighborhood were either dead or in jail. He is now in his 40’s and is a VP of a major company. By God’s grace, he has been my role model. And he was right about his generation and he is right about mine. I don’t want to give glory to those that have died doing wrong, but some of my friends have died due to the violence of the streets. And I don’t want to forget them. One friend, in particular, was named Vince (I mentioned him in the poem). Vince died in an alleyway where he was robbed for his refund check. Some kids found his body near a dumpster. I have been reflecting on him and a few others because, recently, a guy I grew up with (I knew of him in passing) was shot point blank in the back of the head. He was killed because he told the cops about a few people in my neighborhood so he could get a shorter jail term (He was a “snitch”). It saddens me that I know his name but cannot remember his face. And what hurts the deepest is that I will never see it again on this earth. I actually grew up in a neighborhood that wasn’t as rough as some others, but these things still happened and I see kids all the time that are stuck in that cycle. It is tough to come to grips with. A little thought provokin’ for ya.
Comments
It hurts, whether it's D.C. or Chad, Sudan or the Congo. Sometimes it hurts so much there doesn't seem anything that we can do. We're paralyzed by the pain, the sorrow, the sadness. Even Jesus, when his friend Lazarus died, broke down and wept. But then he went on to take action. Our action is not so dramatic, but we can invest our time, energy and money, and if necessary risk our own safety to make a difference in the lives of people in U.S. inner cities as well as people in Africa, Asia and Latin America.
doc
Thanks Doc. I totally agree. Now, being older and looking back, it hurts me that I was so numb to what was going on around me. It is so frustrating when someone you are friends with is taken with such little regard and that pain is indeed universal. I pray that I never forget the ones that are gone. Thank you for your response.
Joel: Thanks for the verse and the story. You are very gifted as a writer and a videographer. Please keep telling these stories and sharing your pain. This is truth...painful truth, but truth nonetheless. I am grateful that your brother turned things around and was able to be a role model to you. I am sure you can and will do the same for others as you pursue your art and calling. Looking forward to seeing more from you.
Joan
Thanks. Yeah, in my neighborhood, the battle for admiration in my heart was between the local drug dealer and my brother. By God's grace, my brother was as strong a person as the local dealer (who is the main person described in this poem and died in the streets when I was around 13 or 14) was because, if he had been weak, I would not have been inspired to be like him.
Your comment about who inspired you is insightful. I don't think we hold up strength as much as we should. Sometimes we would rather talk about Jesus being nice, rather than him being strong. We would rather be seen as nice than as strong. Yet the world is looking for strength. It wants to be on the side of the strong victor, not on the side of the nice loser.
Of course, what it means for a Christian to be strong is different than what it means for many others. Jesus was strong enough to suffer. He was strong enough to die. He was strong enough to then overcome death and rise again. Or goal, toward which we strive--not having yet attained it--as Paul says, should be to be like Jesus, strong enough to suffer, to die, to live again with him.
doc
Doc,
Yeah, it is funny that you mention that aspect of Jesus because, his being strong enough to suffer, is what attracts me to him! His strength is indeed a different strength! Thanks for the comment.
Joel,
You are dealing with some very deep issues here in a profound way. Thanks for your insight and expressing it in such a creative way.
Keep up the rhymes. I look forward to reading more.
--John
Thanks John