Pigs, Poets and How Love Always Wins

Sometimes I cannot forgive
These days, mercy cuts so deep
If the world was how it should be, maybe I could get some sleep
While I lay, I dream we’re better,
Scales were gone and faces lighter
When we wake, we hate our brother
We still move to hurt each other
Sometimes I can close my eyes,
And all the fear that keeps me silent falls below my heavy breathing,
What makes me so badly bent?
We all have a chance to murder
We all feel the need for wonder
We still want to be reminded that the pain is worth the plunder

Sometimes when I lose my grip, I wonder what to make of heaven
All the times I thought to reach up
All the times I had to give
Babies underneath their beds
Hospitals that cannot treat all the wounds that money causes,
All the comforts of cathedrals
All the cries of thirsty children – this is our inheritance
All the rage of watching mothers – this is our greatest offense

Oh my God
Oh my God
Oh my God

It’s 10:30 on a thursday evening.  I lock up the building, grab my bike and head home after a long day at the Underground (the church were I am currently an intern). 

Some would say my ride home is dangerous, but I say its beautiful.  The best view of Downtown Tampa is on my way home and you can only see it if you are walking or riding a bike.  If you are driving it goes by too fast to get a glimpse.  It reminds me to slow down and find the beauty in the part of Tampa that most people avoid.

As I make my turn and ride down Nebraska Avenue I see a police car at a funeral home.  Making things safer, I suppose…

As I continue my ride home I see a cop make a u-turn and park on the sidewalk about ten feet in front of me.  As I get closer it dawns upon me that the cop at the funeral home must of called another officer to stop me right when I get next to the car, the door opens and a young cop steps out and says, “hold on right there for a minute, sir.” 

I stop put my bike down and wonder what I did wrong. 

“Where is your light?,” the officer asks.” 

“I don’t have one.” I reply. 

“Well did you know you need a light to ride at night?” 

“No, I didn’t.”

“Well, I will just give you a warning, then, because you didn’t know.”

“Okay.”

“But, I need to run your I.D. to make sure you don’t have a warrant.”

“Okay.”

At this point, I realize what is going on here…I’m white with dreadlocks, backpack on my back, in a poor black neighborhood.  Anger rages inside of me and as the officer runs my I.D. I think about clever smart remarks I can make to this young officer.  (“By the way, I’m coming home from a church that cares about the poor, not just locks them up and I go to one of the top Universities in the world wanna see that I.D.” came to mind).

But, I didn’t say anything…I grabbed my I.D. and rode home.

It felt like the longest bike ride home ever.  I felt hopeless. 

Should I have fought this blatant stereotyping?

Should I have demanded justice?

What is right here?  Where is love? Where is grace?  Where is truth and beauty? 

All I see is hate.  All I see is anger.  All I see is someone trying to hastle someone trying to ride their bike home.

So, I have been watching this french film called “Hate” and it is about riots in the Parisian Slum areas during the early 90’s.  It is from the point of view of the poor youth who are extremely violent to the police officers they call “pigs.”  What is fascinating from this film is the main character Vinz.  He is filled with anger and longs for the opportunity to kill a “pig” because of the way they treat the poor in the slum.  Early in the movie we discover that Vinz has stolen a gun and is waiting for the opportune moment to strike whenever a police officer wrongs him or another again.  One point in the movie, they end up in one of the wealthiest parts of paris where the officers are incredibly respectful…a lot different from the cops in the poor area.  But Vinz doesn’t care.  He only wants one more cop to mess with him and he will get his revenge.  Vinz trusts that violence will solve the wrongs done to him…

We feel like that sometimes, don’t we?  When someone wrongs us we want to wrong them back.  We want to give them what they deserve.  We want justice through revenge.

The next day my friend Will and I were giving a ride to our friend “Mama” who lives at the house that I’m at this summer.  Mama has lived on the street for a long time, so I decide to tell her what happened and she replied with these words…

“Baby, don’t let that get you down.  These cops out right now are the new rookies trying to get some credibility.  That young man was looking for a fight.  What you gotta do, is just be polite and and respectful.  They are looking to get some credit on their record for picking up people and he probably thought you were an easy target.  Don’t forget Baby, you “won” now.  There wasn’t any warrant and he had to let you go.  Please don’t let that get you down.  You just need to keep on doing what you are doing and you will be just fine.”

Mama was a poet to me in that moment.  She gave me words that put everything in perspective.  That is what poets do, don’t they?  They give us a perspective that we would not normally see.

Poets never look for ways to get someone back.

Poets inspire.  Poets share.  Poets give.  

Mama may be a former drug addict, but she is my poet.  She is my teacher… 

Mama teaches me that we win…

Through Love and Compassion. 

Through Understanding and Seeing.

Through Grace and Mercy.

Through Beauty and Openess.

Mama captures me because of her grace and compassion to this young officer not her anger and frustration. 

Mama taught me that we win because Love always wins.

Justice is never gained through revenge.  It is only gained through love.  The fact that the officer knew that I live in and care about this neighborhood has to be good enough for me. 

I didn’t give that officer what he wanted, but I have to hope that I gave him something  more…this is the only way love will finally win.