Peace, Be still

I dreamed I was a servant to a distant master

whose sons took great delight in my humiliation,

Small humiliations, and daily,

Not enough to be noticed or get them in trouble,

But enough to prove their dominance,

And my powerlessness.

This day I was required to go to the freezer in the shed

And fetch vegetables for dinner.

I knew what would happen.

This was a familiar scene,

But what could I do?

So I walked past them.

I knew they would close the door.

I knew they would lock it.

I knew I would be their prisoner,

If only for a few minutes.

I knew they would circle the shed,

Banging on walls and laughing.

But I went anyways.

Resigned, I sat and faced my shame.

Just a few drops today,

But fresh,

Joining the stream from previous days,

And the river from previous months,

Flowing into a great sea,

A lifetime of small shames, collected.

The shame that every time I turn on the radio

There are no love songs that include me,

The shame that any movie that even hints at my existence

is still classified for adults only

(Heaven forbid the children learn that men are capable of love).

The shame that after a decade of struggle

It is still legal to openly deny us basic human rights.

The shame that in some parts of the world

We must still live in terror for our very lives,'

Witnessing lynchings and public executions.

Not much today,

Just a few moments of teasing,

Just a few drops added to the depths.

As I waited I dreamed of sledgehammers and smashing the door.

I dreamed of freeing myself

And exposing their hatred in a single decisive stroke.

I dreamed of capturing them at night, one by one,

Tying them up and suspending them upside down from trees,

I dreamed of their humiliation and my revenge.

I carry this shame in my very bones.

It sits ever near the surface,

Threatening,

Waiting for the smallest ripple to stir up a hurricane.

In my quiet captivity

Those few drops disturbed the fragile peace,

And I felt the power of that inner ocean unleashed.

It grew boisterous with my deep desire for vengeance,

My deeper desire for violence,

And my deepest desire for justice.

I watched the waves grow higher and more threatening,

I listened to the howling winds,

And felt their strenght as they threatened to overturn my tiny bark.

I could easily be carried by this tempest.

Was there a sledgehammer in the shed?

There might well be.

It would take nothing for such a tidal wave to break down the door,

Nothing for a sledgehammer to turn its weight on unarmed and unsuspecting men.

Not a servant, but a force of nature!

From the heart of this raging sea I understood why people climbed towers with guns,

Why students were not safe in their schools,

I understood.

I, all alone, in the midst of this boiling rage knew what I had to do.

I had to stand resolute

Face the endless sea,

Become stronger than nature itself,

And command,

"Peace, be still!"

I must calm the tempest to a surface smoother than glass,

Till the depths, unruffled, resolve into sleep.

And, at last, when the door is opened,

And at their whim I am allowed to continue with my life,

I must meekly walk past them,

And wait for tomorrow's test.