77. Peace In The Hot Spot

Author: Jared Robert Allen, Senior

Below is a link to my recording of the piece on SoundCloud - I consider the recording a vital part of the piece's organic impact.

Sound link: https://soundcloud.com/jrastudios/peace-in-the-hot-spot

 

Sunbeams bounce off the Honduran coast,

Igniting my freckles to embers,

I smile in boast about my good deeds,

Of helping those in need.


I am on a human journey.

To that equatorial spot

Of tropical bliss

Fraught with plainly hidden sadness.


Courtesy of American Airlines my white butt is

Propelled across the Earth.

In mirth, I am here

To meet the people of this place

To needle my face into the lives,

And the culture, and the children.

My defense for such intrusion?

Service. Of the highest institution.


But I am on a human journey,

Here to carry them to a merrier place,

Less scary than the one before.

Never to tarry, but open up the door

For them. I am American,

I’ve been taught that I have the key.
Believe in me,

For I know I know right.

I have the might to knock down barriers

Relinquish carriers of the plague

That we call poverty.

A disease whose stem cells

Stem from the sovereign power

Of the mighty money gods. I am American,

I have been taught to worship.


Digging trenches beneath the blazing sun,

Raising intellectual puns about our situation,

Surrounded by little orphan Angels

With mocha skin and eyes that see my soul,

I grow confused. I am American,

I have been taught to ignore that.


But ignore it I must not.

For once in my life I am threatened

With the invasion of my security,

The reliability of my race, and class, and politics.

For once in my life I am reduced to tears

Not by the snapshots of shoddy warfare in

National Geographic,

But by this

Dirty,

Hungry,

Curious,

Intelligent,

Beautiful,

Orphan boy.

Whose closest living relative…is me.


I am on a human journey,

Driven now not by the circumstances

Firstly given,

But by those that I now live in.

Thirsty for the sadness that

Wrenches my eyes open.

My eyes, which previously rode on

Waves of sound, extrapolating the

Hearsay of far-off troubles.

But now they depend on

Waves of light, to experience.

To see.


To see that human rights is a human problem

With a human solution.

No act of God will suffice

To deliver us from the vice

That tears us down at night.

This I consider a divine and holy rite.

A truth that runs deeper than

The boiling magma blood of this Earth.


Why am I here?

I am on a human journey.

If service is what I set out to do

That which I know I change is me, not you.

For nothing in this world can I control,

Outside the point of view my mind doth hold.


Shakespeare didn’t know the power of his meter

But four-hundred years later we teeter,

Unresolved on the magic of his sounds.

So harness that power in the now,

Don’t cow-tow down to voice that purrs:

Ignore the kids on the street.

Ignore the orphans in need.

Ignore the violation of the human rights you see.

Because to choose to live in ignorance is a crime

I don’t know how to forgive.

But it’s not my job to forgive.

Only to relive what I know

And grow that vision

Into action that

Will not be derided, but

Elided with the dreams of others,

Until the world spins

Perfectly in balance.

In peace.


I dream in salty tears and steel determination

Praying for a human constellation

That eradicates hatred and regret, setting us off

On one step up the grand staircase of

Love.


“Human rights” is a fabricated title,

Elaborated on forever, but giving meaning to

Something we already know.

Because,

If service is what I set out to do

That which I know I change is me, not you.

For nothing in this world can I control,

Outside the point of view my mind doth hold.

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