The poverty of my privilege has robbed me
Of experiences and beauty that should beguile me.
Blinded by my history’s unquestioned filing.
Of docs, pics, and evidence
Without hearing how others hear the tocks and ticks.
Time passes, as the masses still can’t get this fixed.
I am one of ‘em completely blundersome.
Too busy talking to hear the tocking of the clock
Watching out for myself as another clock’s stopped.
Before its time,
Wishing I knew how to wind back history.
Unveil my eyes so I could see mystery.
How can color determine that’s you and this is me?
But if I reject, I reject the stories you have seen
There’s no Braille for race blinded eyes you see.
Maybe it’s me but maybe my eyes are working too much.
Just a hunch but maybe my eyes should close and my mouth should shut.
Maybe I should listen to stories that aren’t my own
Maybe then my understanding might grow.
John Combs has lived in the Hood River area for four years, following his marriage in 2016. With his wife, Tina, they have been foster parents for 3 years, recently adopting. Currently, John is employed at The Next Door. John describes himself as a reformed evangelical who came to a crisis in faith in 2015 and shortly after plunged headfirst in love with the Jesus of scripture. His renewed faith pushed him to reevaluate his beliefs about others and his willingness to engage and care for others outside of “his bubble”. An “amateur poet”, John uses his faith, convictions, and belief in the living Christ as a motivation to question the assumptions of society and American Evangelical structures. His desire is to use his gifts to reveal the Jesus who loves the poor, heals the sick, speaks truth to power, and reigns as Resurrected King.
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“Be twice as good”
I never heard these words
It was enough to try my best
And when I didn’t
When I lived into
My adolescent boyhood
For my life