Hoe Things

Once we become converted to God, the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, do we hide who we were; remove our tattoos, delete the old text messages of when we texted that nigga bout sucking his dick? Do we pick up our cucumber sandwiches and hide that we ate pork and salad and drunk bottles of alcohol amongst other drinks? 

Hmm, this is a serious question. Can we be Christian and still remember where we came from? The midnight hours of raw sex, skin to skin, with a nigga who wasn’t your husband but somebody else’s. Wasted time exchanging ourselves for time currency. The moments when we snuck our hands into a classmates back bag stealing they shit. Or oh the time when you let a nigga fuck you on the beach cuz his shirt said he was a police. 

Surely when I was a child I behaved as one. Now the old things are put away, but are they thrown away? I wonder what I will tell my niece why I dance the way I do when I hear nothing but the blood of Jesus? 

Will I tell her it’s because he died for me a sinner? Will I pull outs My old things and tell her I dance cuz He saved me from doing hoe shit that was going to send my ass to hell? Or do I say nothing. And let her find out herself and  let her reach that epiphany when Kirk Franklin sings I sing because I’m free? 

Do I owe those behind me the legacy of my wounds? Or if not them, do I owe God that? To him who much is forgiven, him who loves most. 

And if we do forget what happens? Do we walk around smelling of cinnamon and mint, taking the eye doodoo out of people’s eyes, turning hoes to housewives, redeeming the jailhouse bird as we ourselves slowly regress. 

I once heard some shit, and I think it’s true; if the past is continuously erased, you will have nothing to learn from. Once saved doesn’t mean always saved cuz the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob will test you continually.

Our lives are not games. Life is not a game. Our souls and spirits and generations of bodies hang in the balance or will hang on the trees. It is too expensive a move to forget the past. Lest ye forget, and judge. Then shall ye be judged with the same measure. 

Museums must be built with the stoning on the wall. The song must commemorate them when they find their way out of the Forrest out of the gingerbread house out of sun worship out of the theory of evolution out of Walmart out of the fraternity out of the lodge and  off the mothafucking grid. 

Are you la tabula Rosa? Do you turn a new leaf cuz you turnt a new trick?


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