I was sitting at the ball park with a friend
When he smiled and said
“you’ve been to jail, I can’t believe it.”

He said it loud enough for those around to hear
I cringed inside and wanted to hide

Hell that’s my past
Why do I let it still bother me?

I mean what defines a person
His past
Or what he is doing in the present

If its my past
Then I am a lot of things
A son of an alcoholic mother who abused me
I’m a survivor of sexual abuse
I’m the third child of 2 parents that took me 18 years to say I loved
I’m a musician, radio personality, the great great grandson of a Yuchi chief
But
What does that express of who I really am

My grandmother told me stories of when she felt ostracized for being an Indian
I wonder if it was the pain I felt when I was a child and wanted to die

I’m a fucking Buddhist and I still am hung up on the past
Where I don’t live anymore

I am now
Alive
One
Who cries when I hear another young man comes home from war in a pine box
I am one
Who opens up his house for a friend in need
I am one who gives a dollar to a homeless man
I am one
I am
I just am living
I am

05/15/2004

Posted on 01/27/2005
Copyright © 2024 Mark Maxey