Ramble Rebuke Refuge
I rebuke Jesus in the name of Sonya Massey.
This is a ramble.
Because what else is there
as I nestle in my favorite chair listening to the flap-tumble of soaked and twirling bedsheets
as the puppy lazes on her bed and my children play
vanquishing Lego foes and dreaming up ways to restore an ancient Triumph
as I breathe in the tranquility of the uninterrupted mundane
Sonya Massey does not.
I rebuke Jesus in the name of Sonya Massey.
I want to rebuke the officers but what good is that
in a country that worships antichrists in Jesus’ name
What good is it when is this is the land of American Jesus
who shields a rapist con artist from bullets
yet allows them to penetrate
a woman evoking his name
wearing a nightgown
scared of prowlers
boiling water.
The laundry spins sopping and soapy
my children attend to chores and amusement
while I shake in my chair, quietly
hoping to shield them from the grief and vigilance that is my portion
metabolizing murder, again
Eleanor Bumpers, Atatiana Jefferson, Korryn Gaines, Aiyana Jones
live in my sinews
burned into my DNA
Their deaths are ours
I shallow breathe the months ahead
— a Black woman as Democratic presidential nominee —
anticipating the pain to come
the slurs
the misogynoir
the empowered cowards
salivating to ruin her by ruining us
violence by proxy
what does this mean for my body, my sisters’ bodies
how many ways will we pay for “freedom”
I ramble because rebuke seems in vain
Who responds when we are breaking?
Justice is foreign and unwelcome here
the wicked prosper
my laundry still needs doing
murderers are rewarded
my children still belly laugh
My breath can be taken
where is refuge
who is refuge?1
For some readers, this may be challenging to read because I am not sugar-coating my disappointment with Jesus. I want to hug those readers — their faith manifests in such an unwavering dedication to Christ. I am Thomas. I doubt. I remember the violence of crucifixion and wonder aloud how anything can live afterward. Jesus didn’t rebuke Thomas but showed him that the violence he saw was real as the holes in his hands and side. I need Jesus to show up on the other side of murder in a way that disciples us.
Thomas gets a bad rap. Thomas is us all.
There are things I will never understand, but my anger does not need any rationalizing. Watching that video made me so angry. I believe what we saw was spiritual warfare made flesh. It breaks my heart. I fear for my family - what is the resort if someone tries me in my own home? Feels like a losing game.