Happy Black History Month! Yes, it still exists, whether the Republicans try to ban it or not. (I'm going to blame the entire Republican Party for what's happening in the United States from here on out, because the Felon in Chief just isn't smart enough to read, let alone write, all these executive orders. Let's lay the blame where it belongs. The Republicans let the man run for the Oval Office, and they are the ones who could stop him.)
One of my favorite moments of the last couple weeks was Bishop Mariann Budde asking the Republicans to exercise mercy during an inaugural prayer service. It was the sermon heard 'round the world, except by the Republicans in attendance who claim to be Christians.
I've read the transcript of Bishop Budde's sermon, listened to it, as well. Nothing she said, in a very kind way, was political. She was basically preaching the teachings of Jesus Christ. (For the MAGA people who might be reading this post, Jesus Christ is the guy that the New Testament is all about. Oh, and the New Testament is part of the Bible. If you don't own a Bible, I believe you can buy one from the current resident of the White House.)
Let me say this clearly, mercy is not political.
The Pact
by: Sharon Olds
We played dolls in that house where Father staggered with the
Thanksgiving knife, where Mother wept at noon into her one ounce of
cottage cheese, praying for the strength not to
kill herself. We kneeled over the
rubber bodies, gave them baths
carefully, scrubbed their little
orange hands, wrapped them up tight,
said goodnight, never spoke of the
woman like a gaping wound
weeping on the stairs, the man like a stuck
buffalo, baffled, stunned, dragging
arrows in his side. As if we had made a
pact of silence and safety, we kneeled and
dressed those tiny torsos with their elegant
belly-buttons and minuscule holes
high on the buttock to pee through and all that
darkness in their open mouths, so that I
have not been able to forgive you for giving your
daughter away, letting her go at
eight as if you took Molly Ann or
Tiny Tears and held her head
under the water in the bathinette
until no bubbles rose, or threw her
dark rosy body on the fire that
burned in that house where you and I
barely survived, sister, where we
swore to be protectors.
Olds and her sister didn't receive a whole lot of mercy from their parents. Their mother was an abused wife, and their father was an abusive, alcoholic husband/parent. They had to be each other's mercy during their childhoods.
Coming up on three weeks of the Republicans being in power in Washington, D. C., mercy is in very short supply. Men and women and children are being rounded up by ICE and FBI agents. Loyal civil servants are being fired. Plane crashes are being blamed on women and people of color. And, according to Republicans, there's no such thing as Black history, Juneteenth, gay pride, the Holocaust, Hispanic heritage, women's history, disabled people belonging in the workplace, and the Tuskegee Airmen, among others.
Today, the Republicans attacked some of our closest allies--Canada and Mexico--with tariffs which, in turn, will make living in the United States even more difficult for normal families trying to scrape by on low wages, exorbitant healthcare, and housing shortages.
I hope you're getting the picture. Bishop Budde begged the Republicans for Christian mercy, and the Republicans didn't listen to the teachings of Jesus Christ (the God they all claim to worship). In fact, they censured Budde in the House of Representatives.
I believe in mercy, and I celebrate Black History in the United States this month.
Thanksgiving knife, where Mother wept at noon into her one ounce of
cottage cheese, praying for the strength not to
kill herself. We kneeled over the
rubber bodies, gave them baths
carefully, scrubbed their little
orange hands, wrapped them up tight,
said goodnight, never spoke of the
woman like a gaping wound
weeping on the stairs, the man like a stuck
buffalo, baffled, stunned, dragging
arrows in his side. As if we had made a
pact of silence and safety, we kneeled and
dressed those tiny torsos with their elegant
belly-buttons and minuscule holes
high on the buttock to pee through and all that
darkness in their open mouths, so that I
have not been able to forgive you for giving your
daughter away, letting her go at
eight as if you took Molly Ann or
Tiny Tears and held her head
under the water in the bathinette
until no bubbles rose, or threw her
dark rosy body on the fire that
burned in that house where you and I
barely survived, sister, where we
swore to be protectors.
Olds and her sister didn't receive a whole lot of mercy from their parents. Their mother was an abused wife, and their father was an abusive, alcoholic husband/parent. They had to be each other's mercy during their childhoods.
Coming up on three weeks of the Republicans being in power in Washington, D. C., mercy is in very short supply. Men and women and children are being rounded up by ICE and FBI agents. Loyal civil servants are being fired. Plane crashes are being blamed on women and people of color. And, according to Republicans, there's no such thing as Black history, Juneteenth, gay pride, the Holocaust, Hispanic heritage, women's history, disabled people belonging in the workplace, and the Tuskegee Airmen, among others.
Today, the Republicans attacked some of our closest allies--Canada and Mexico--with tariffs which, in turn, will make living in the United States even more difficult for normal families trying to scrape by on low wages, exorbitant healthcare, and housing shortages.
I hope you're getting the picture. Bishop Budde begged the Republicans for Christian mercy, and the Republicans didn't listen to the teachings of Jesus Christ (the God they all claim to worship). In fact, they censured Budde in the House of Representatives.
I believe in mercy, and I celebrate Black History in the United States this month.
It's the birthday of Langston Hughes, born in 1902. In the spirit of Hughes, read his poem "A Dream Deferred" and write your own metaphoric and rhymed poem that both asks and answers questions. For example, you might ask: What happens to a vacation deferred? or What happens to a remodel deferred? Hughes' dream festers like a sore. What will your long-lost vacation or remodel do?
Mercy Deferred
by: Martin Achatz
after Langston Hughes
What happens to mercy deferred?
Does it rise up--
a swarm of angry bees?
Or hide behind locked doors,
hope nobody has the keys?
Does it taste like smoke and ash--
remains of some bright pyre?
Or wash up on some distant shore,
bone-white and thin as wire?
Maybe it vanishes,
a rabbit in a hat.
Dries to dust, blows away,
a desperate acrobat.
❤️
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