Truth Telling

Reflections after: “Wont You Be My Neighbor” the film

I always wondered if I was enough. I think I was, he just never told me. But now he has. And the validation is and always was, all within my Self.

I am a product of my experiences–to communicate the truth. I’d rather be known for telling people the truth, I said.

I know the truth because I saw my mother love. I know the truth because my father and his father discussed frankly, the politics of the world. I know the truth because my sister shares these experiences. I know the truth because my friends ensure the guidance, the propagation, the continuance of that truth.

What truth is it, that I speak?

The baby crying; inescapable from room to room and nowhere to be found.

The car that exhausts the sidewalk trees, blisters its exterior with debris.

The black woman once ignored in the conference room, speaks.

The grip of a young farmer, as he holds his mutt tight to his chest.

The raw meat sacrificed from a once live pig, earlier this week.

The bottle you discard; what if all your trash followed you throughout your lifetime?

The tragedy of death. The pierce of loss of spirit. The moment we fathom, “access denied,” to the most powerful incarnation of love we have ever known.

We press on. But not without contemplation. A gentle acknowledgement of time made flat on a singular plane.

What is this truth? This is our humanity. Our gift to the world harbored in awareness; if only we remember to turn on the light.

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