Fourth Thursday

Your Son
by: Gerald Jackson
Written & Performed 4/15/08 in Ursas's Stageside.


"Do you think about me now and then?"

Plays in my headphones as I look at the only photo I have of you.

All it does is remind me of growing up without seeing your face

Sprouting without knowing who you really were
Caring about something that never held me
Fed me, never led me through my first fall,
First scrape on the skin that you shaded
That faded by being inside my father’s house

Now, I’m not saying I don’t love my father,
But me and my brother would have liked to
Have been nursed by you, raised by the breast
That never nourished us. I would love to
Play football on your yard, in your soil,

With my feet, not plowing with my shoulders
Wearing my father’s pads. I was raised to
Reject you because you were never around.
You were always some fictitious character that
Was cloaked in the hides of animals

Walking through the fields of grass
Searching for something to eat. You were always
An animal, unreal, unsure of what love
Was, is, or could be
You were a beast

Father tamed you and brought me here.
Through years of tears, blood and fear,
I transformed into my Father’s son,
Wearing his reds, his blues, his whites,
Fighting for his house, even if it defiled yours.

Then I saw this picture of you.

Wearing clothing of greens, blacks,
Browns, swirling around your black skin,
Staring at the distant oceans, waiting for
Rain to fall so that more of your children
Could sprout from your arms.

I see your skin, all the lacerations
Caused by those who wanted your
Being within them, all the people who raped
You, beat you, used you, abused you
My father included.

I see the scars around your neck
From where they snatched the diamonds
Off the platinum chain. I see the names
Of all your children killed on your legs
So that every time you fall to your knees to pray

They return to the earth.

I see the gold burned into your hands
From the bangles you wore, the handcuffs
Those men held you by. I see the bugs they
Said you ate, the animals they said you were
The societies they hid from me

I see your coasts, your real diamonds sparkling
Amongst the horizon. I see your lush hair,
The forests, the giver of breath and life to
Those who deserve it and those who don’t,
I see your nails, used to fight, the children who sharpen them

I see the mouth that cannot speak
I see the mind that cannot teach
I see you, I see everything about you
I see you in the desert, staring at me
With your hair covered, your face hidden

And only your eyes remain
Eyes so brown, skies so blue, that
Stare back at the land you are
And show the beauty, the tragedy
And the celebration of every life born

In your arms…

Here I am.
Wearing the chain with the gold
Ripped from your wrists. Rocking the
Diamonds snatched from your neck
Inside the skin you faded

Looking into our eyes that
Allow one trail of blood to fall from
Face to the chest to the leg to the
Ground, splattering the map of your
Home in my fathers house.

Our blood.

I love my father and rejected you.
Even though our blood is the same.
I can never have your name, instead
Of something that represents your beauty,
My name will be Jackson.

But that’s no excuse.

With my headphones still on, I flip the
Picture, which is a postcard, and write

Dear Mom…

I’m coming home again.

Maybe we can start again.

Love,

The distant child of Africa raised by America.

Your Son