In the beginning,
there was light and the light was good.
In the beginning, it was the beginning
and you and I had yet to know
what was about to come.
I write this to you,
staggering my thoughts
so I can break them down
and hopefully,
you can understand where I am.
I do not want find myself where I was
again . . .
In the beginning, I assumed too often
and took too much for granted.
But in the beginning,
this was only the beginning and so,
time passed, the clock ticked,
and I unfolded to learn that not all lessons
are as they appeared
like they did when I first learned them
(in the beginning.)
I am neither here nor there and nor
have I been everywhere I want to be.
There are more places that I would like to see
but my experience somehow limits me.
I am far from the kid who dangled on 116th
or nodded downtown
or flew too fast
down by Rockaway
near the corner of B15th street
In the beginning,
I assumed that time would be endless
or that my astrology would be limitless
because when we are a child,
we think like children think and hope
like children do, which is nice,
when I think of this.
Some say that only children dare to dream.
I say maybe this is true
because the light at the end of the tunnel
is still as true as the stories
about the man on the moon
or the cats in the cradle.
Some say that age takes away
the liberties that once seemed pure
like the sanctity of youth
or like when time was more innocent
and we were able to be comforted
by the softness of a grandmother’s hand
—gentle to the touch,
soothing like a blanket that swaddles
the heart of our forever child, within
I am no longer my child within.
I am no longer the abandoned nature,
which took place once I heard the flash of a gun,
as if the shot took away the reverence of life,
or in truth;
I realized that no one should ever know
or understand the power of what it means
to erase human life.
These things do not go away
by the way . . .
Or, at least, I can only assume.
or perhaps one can find
an ease with an understanding like this –
perhaps if I know violence
or understand violence or how this works;
then perhaps one could understand
the true inner workings of peace.
Or as it is often said,
if you know,
then you know and if you don’t know,
then you can’t know—or in other words,
perhaps there are times
we should consider ourselves lucky –
We are lucky if we don’t know what it means
to hurt or be hurt or to bleed out
in such an extravagant way
that our scars are both evident and invisible
I don’t want to know about
anything like this anymore.
I don’t have the need to be tough.
I don’t want to be in the arena anymore
or stand outside,
and swim where the sharks swim
or eat where the bears eat.
I am done with the differences
between predator and prey.
I am done with the food chain
and done with the bullets
that pay tribute to hateful hearts.
But still, I understand the understanding
that comes with laws of interpersonal combat.
I know all about bullies.
Some of them live long and some live prosperous
and they are alive and well
inside of my head
.
It was long ago. It must have been.
But nothing happened so long ago
that my memory has forgotten or worse,
none of my tragedies are unremembered
but they have changes
due to the mutation of age
and the embellishment of insecure worries
that cause me to pause or wait and ask
what do I do if something
this awful happens to me again?
What if the feelings of foolishness
overtake me again?
What if I let my guard down
and the marksmen finds a clear shot at my heart
and what if I give someone my “everything,”
and in turn,
what if someone uses what I give them
against me
and once more,
I find myself hurt,
or weak and alone?
It is nothing now, of course,
but in the beginning
it was only the beginning
and I found myself
all too hopeful about hopeless things.
I was asked, can felons change?
Can leopards change their spots?
Can an old dog learn new tricks
or can the filthy become clean?
How long can one hide from themselves
before the floor falls from beneath them?
How far can someone fall from grace?
How deep do these holes go?
And how long can one fall
before they find themselves
at the bottom of an aftermath,
which comes with a trap door?
And what is it like when you fall and you fall,
and then what comes next
when you hit a bottom
that drops beneath the basement in hell
In the beginning, I was younger.
When I was younger,
I thought as a younger man would think
and naturally,
I believed in the phantoms of my youth,
which was brought on by the older bullies
who were not all dressed similarly,
but differently.
How is it that I have gone this far?
How is it that I have made all of these turns
and come back to where I began?
And if I am back at my beginning,
then I have to ask myself
what was I missing?
What did I miss
that brought me back to this place at this time,
and once again,
when the floor fell out from beneath me
what did I overlook this time?
What do I need to be ready for so that next time
I can be somewhere else?
What needs to happen so that next time
I am aware and clear and ready
for any kind of present danger
that threatens my safety?
I am not a child anymore; and therefore;
I cannot think as children think or speak
like I spoke when I was just a kid.
“I’m not afraid anymore.”
In the beginning, I was pure.
But more than that;
in the beginning, I was me.
and that’s all I want to be.
I have nightmares sometimes.
I see lifeless eyes of dead ones
from my past
and I remember the lies I told myself to somehow,
justify my behaviors or satisfy my shame.
But Teacher,
I have a hard time because sometimes,
I see the faces that I cannot unsee
and I have memories
that refuse to release me or let me go
so that I can believe in purity
or that I can be pure again
But I am
in some ways
And perhaps you might ask
if I am ashamed anymore.
Well, am I?
No.
But this is not the beginning to me anymore and finally,
I have realized that I have moved beyond the middle
and that I am closer to the end than anything else.
In the beginning,
I thought and spoke and acted like beginners do.
But this is not the beginning
and I am not a beginner
anymore.
The Written Addiction 