My soul is hungry to understand the importance of reflection, so I open “Sour Honey & Soul Food” to read the words of one of my favorite Poets, Billy Chapata:
“There is no need to hold onto something that holds you back from growing. There is no use in holding onto something that stops you from moving forward. There is no use in grasping onto something that destroys your joy and takes away your sanity. Murder the past.”
Seeking Clarity Within History.
To murder the past is an aggressive take. Must we murder the pain once felt when the people we cared for left us stranded? Should we destroy moments cherished when those we trusted painted lies to look like truth?
My past helped me progress into the confident woman I am today. I bask in the pain, because I remember what feeling lost felt like and I chose never to live in uncertainty again.
Reading Chapata’s script left me twisted. At times, I will appreciate my past, as though looking in the mirror, reflecting on the progression of powerful teachings which helped me navigate my future. The past is a place that will never die. Why must we murder it?
…I am confusion.
Uniting in History to Move Forward.
April 4, 2018 at 10:20 p.m.
I never imagined sitting in the chair bumping trap music to calm my nerves as I clutched hands with my homegirl, who I once shared bad history with. She and I dated the same man years ago—the same man who popped my cherry, but chose her instead. Now she and I are present, together, holding hands because we understood the power in women uniting, despite our differences. It was our history that brought us to our present. We chose to move forward, we carry on.
Zizz. Zizz. Zizz. “…Move forward and don’t look back. That’s all I think of when I see my tattoo.”
Receiving my first tattoo was a spiritual experience. It motivated me to end painful chapters leftover in my life. It also encouraged me to stop all gravitation towards dead weight that held me captive from excelling within myself. I repeatedly memorized the meaning of my tattoo, move forward and don’t look back.
It resonated within me. I felt anew. I gave myself permission to become anew.
…I am future.
The Sun Dies at Night, A Poem.
“The Sun Dies at Night,” a poem my friend and I take turns curating. Two lines each, he writes, then I let my naked thoughts come from the pen to the paper. I question, will the sun ever die? Though, knowingly made aware, if the sun died, we would all be dead. The sun is an unreachable object, but is a necessary for every living being.
And like our past, without it, where would we be?
…I am more confusion.
A Sankofa Bird. A Gift of Old. A Second Chance.
SAN (return)
KO (go)
FA (look, seek and take)
One of my favorite poets tells me to murder my past. Yet, my friend’s next tattoo will be the sankofa bird—a bird that symbolizes remembering the past in order to move forward.
As a deep thinker, I overthought on both concepts to understand what really made sense. Should I kill the past, or should I allow it to linger in order to move forward?
In my twisted head: I’m sorry, but will the sun ever die?
Xiao’s Two Cents
The past whispers to our ears the difference between right and wrong. The past reminds us where our hearts have traveled and where our souls have labored. The past offers hope that the things we lost will soon be recovered. The past is our ultimate journal filled with 3:00 a.m. feelings written on endless pages for generation X to share, for the millennials to take heed and for children of the baby boomers to continue writing.
In conclusion, if we murdered our past, we become murders of our own selves. To murder what was a part of you is to cut off the very thing that helped create you. Don’t become suicidal. To let your past live doesn’t mean you’re present in the past—but that you’ve acknowledged you’d be lost without it.
…Surely the sun will never die.
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