ODE TO OBEY
If you were a true Black Woman, you would be able to converse with me on my level.
But you’re merely an aberration,
A figment of your own under nourished, Deprived, over inflated, undereducated Imagination, and
Forced by your own insecurity, you lash Out at my definite, unavoidable Blackness.
For I am the Black Man.
Complex, Intricate, Diverse, Plural, indescribably infinite in fathomless Depth.
I am.
I am what I please when I please, where I’m pleased to be, me.
No need to be what I’m not, for I am all things,
And everything to me, that it would Please me to be.
Whatever conjecture, whatever conjuncture, I am me.
I need not envy nor desire to be Anything that I’m not,
Because I am.
I know me and like me; I must live for me.
I deem it a privilege, to be… Ever free to be…
Me.
Now woman, join me.
Ascend that spiral staircase that entwines Thine soul, to the top.
There find thyself waiting to be found by you.
Fear not to cry, but
Cry aloud that you might know that you can Feel, hurt, love, then live.
Join me in being.
Fearing not what others may say. Climb the mountain to the top!
Descend into the abyss knowing that you will rise again, never having said that you have fallen-
Fly, glide, up high in the limitless Sky; knowing that you are a spirit, which can never die.
In finding yourself know that you
Can be…
Yes, as we can be That we are.
Truly, forever free to be, Diversities of personality Personified in the plural, Yet, singular.
ODE TO OBY
BY Sammie L. Carter
Sam373’s Blog copy write July 3, 1981 0500 hrs.
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