Two Years, Two Rivers, Two of Me

Mon, 02/05/2018 - 20:56 -- jyoyo14

Dear former self,


I’m writing you from the other side of that place 

Where the two rivers meet

You haven’t seen it with your earthly eyes

But have with your soul

You haven’t a memory of it

But you will remember it 

When you feel it

Both rivers roll, mightily

One, a deep pulsating brown, the warm tone of your mother’s eyes

The other, a murky and majestic black, the infinite color of hollowness


The color of struggle


The two rivers play a symphony that can only be heard if felt

Two years and you’ll see what I see 

And feel what I feel.


You are a missionary

You are ready

You are a little prideful

And arrogant

You believed you were invincible, and unstoppable, that for you anything could come easily




You put on your black name tag

On it are two names: the name of your family

And the name of your God.

You are here in this strange land out of love 

and compassion for others

You want to help and teach others in this strange land how to love

And be loved

To help them write the name of their God 

In their hearts




Easily was a word so easily uttered 

Now that you are here you see that it is vile

And devastating

And profane

And humiliating

A taboo 

A deception

A lie that spawned from the Leviathan’s bitter, fiery tongue

A lie from the abyss of the blackness

From the depths of the darkest of all rivers


The depths of the black river swallow you up

You understand not a word spoken by others around you

Because your language was taken 

The natives despise you because you cannot speak to them

They throw rocks at you

Spit on you

Slam door after door in your face

When the only thing you want is to love them 

With all the love you can

But you can’t


You hate them 

For rejecting you because of the way you talk

For rejecting you because of the color of your skin

For rejecting your God, who you know

Can help them be born again


For rejecting you


Dear former self:



Forget about yourself and work 

And sweat 

It does not matter the way you talk

It does not matter the color of your skin

Do not let love be drowned by hate and good by evil

Learn to speak their language

Learn to love them

for who they are 

Learn to forgive them

And their offenses and their slurs and their slanders




You are the one that must be born again

Forget yourself 


Before you can reap

You must sow

Before you can reach 

You must grow

Before you can see

You must know


That nothing comes easily




The black river of struggle will test you 

But you will make it to the brown

You will learn to love those who reject you

Only then will they love you 

And accept you for who you are

And what you believe 


Dear former self.


I am here now, between the rivers.

Two years and you will see what I am seeing.

And feel what I am feeling.

The place where the two rivers meet 

Is where you will feel true 



And go through just enough struggle

To push you

To test you

To help you 

Remember that the only way to move forward

Is by staying between the rivers


In the place

Where the two rivers meet.

This poem is about: 
My community


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