The Lens of a Father

The Lens of a Father

Statistics are against me
The government tries to replace me
And it’s hard for a man to stand sometimes
But nothing can keep you away from me
I have scars…
And if you take a closer look, you will see the whips I’ve had to endure from the pain of my past.
But that doesn’t matter now my son
At the end of the day
Though earlier, I may have cried
Tears flowing down from my eyes
Disappointed I may have let you down
You won’t see that…but a glow and sparkle in my eyes as I lay you down at night for a peaceful sleep...and I smile.
When you grow older
Maybe we can sit down over a cup of coffee as I tell you my life’s story
Hoping what I have shared would supply you strength and wisdom
This is my legacy to you.
That though you may often stumble during life’s journey
Get back up
And though at times you may want to quit
Find the strength to carry on.
To me son
Being your father isn’t about being perfect or getting everything right
But about me passing from this life
Knowing you knew me and I, you
To know I loved you and your mother with all that was within me to love
I gave my all.
Let this lens of life given to you
be to you as gold.
After all, one day you will become a man and maybe even a father one day
and you will remember your father’s wisdom and love
To pass it on to your sons when I have waltzed away upon the wings of the wind
Knowing this…I will always be with you.

By Savaslas Lofton
c.2009

Never Look Down

Raindrops in life don’t always feel light,
Sometimes they come hard and feel like razor blades against my skin,
Ricochet by the wind like a bullet from the caliber of a gun,
But, grandmother always taught, no matter the cost…never look down.

Busy city streets,
Taxi’s passing by as swift as the smoke from a cigar,
I’m mistaken at times as one for easy sex as if I’m some rap video chick…despite my brief case and swagger,
Called out of my name for the refusal to give in to the pressure,
Being a black woman doesn’t automatically mean I am easy…I must maintain my identity,
Grandmother always taught, no matter the cost…never look down.

For she said…a woman who can tell you more about what lies in the dirt than what lies in the skies where eagle’s wings fly…may not necessarily know their truth self-worth.
In spirit…she would add as she smiled,
I look at the scars on her face from segregation in the 60’s, for not bowing down to the low state of men,
Thinking her position was either lying on her back, or serving in the kitchen.
Grandmother taught me…never look down.

I’ve learned to appreciate the value God intrinsically placed in the whiteness of my smile,
In the deep caverns of my eyes, in the texture of my skin…holding myself close like a warm cup of mocha when the weather’s chill rest upon my window seal.

No matter the cost…I won’t look down.
I will hold my head up high and not let either failure or what other people say or think, be the modern day noose around my neck.

I am free both in body and in spirit…no matter the cost, I will never look down.

Written by Savaslas Lofton
c.2009

It’s funny you know…how things change as you grow older. Your experiences turn into memories like drops of rain upon still waters. People call me by my first name, Cathy, but they really don’t know me…the real me. When I was 12 years old, my aunt, whom I had adored, told me I had an ugly smile. I was young. I didn’t realizing she was speaking out of animosity against my mother for winning the heart of her boyfriend during their teenage years. She never forgave my mother. They have been at odds since then. They didn’t realize the anger and the hurt they had exchanged were affecting their children like a blood transfusion gone wrong. My aunt’s two daughters and I were the ones suffering emotionally. Whenever I laughed, I would use my hand like a handkerchief to cover up my smile, rehearsing her hurtful comments as an actor recalling the lines to a play. “Cathy, you are beautiful,” was what I had heard from others for most of teenage years into adult hood. That comment I had imagined, was made, perhaps to an imaginary friend who went with me everywhere I went. I didn’t feel beautiful on the inside. This event along with other hurtful experiences feasted upon my self-esteem like cancer. I was a beautiful woman with a broken heart.

So to admit that I am beautiful today, to me, is more than making a statement of confidence…it’s the culmination of a journey.

Cathy is my name…but “Overcomer” should be my last name. From a painful past filled with hurtful insults to verbally abusive relationships, I survived it all. I’ve realized now...the beauty that lives inside of me. I am proud now to look in the mirror at my shapely hips, my hair flowing like liquorish strands of wool and my lips, full and voluptuous, sweet like honeydew. I’ve chosen to hold nothing against anyone, forgive everyone…but most of all love me, to celebrate my successes and learn from my failures.

People call me by my first name…but only I know the true value of the “Cathy” living inside of me.

By Savaslas Lofton