I believe in the love trumps everything. I believe I have had my rough edges smoothed down like a old woman ironing a beloved newly washed garment. I just arrived to San Francisco from Washington, D.C. I’d grown custom to belonging in D.C. My neighbors were diverse before that term became popularized. San Francisco I was told by my father, a former tuskegee airman, the place for opportunities.
Yet my experiences of being hosed down on the way to school, of phone calls of death threats and a petition to have us kicked out of our new home were not the experiences my fathered had visioned. I learned and exacted the power of hate for the next 20 years. At 31 looking into the eyes of my medicine man (Joe Chasing his Horse), listening to his words, that all I do now is a prayer into the world I make real I began to believe that something more relevant could trump the pain of love withdrawn. I ended the sourcing of fearful hurt on others. Nothing was harder than to relinquish the armor that I thought had protected me, from myself and others. I screamed like a child pulling off a band-aid. I often fell to the ground begging God or something to make it easier. It did , over time, people unknown to me came to me, to love me out of my own suffering. Their precious donations healed me. I did not heal myself but I was a patient open to the cure that their loved offered. So I believe in the songs and poems of love. I know them to be true and triumphant.
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