Today, I am thinking about feeding the soul, so I couldn't wait to share this incredible poem by Danial Orange! Danial is a spoken word poet. He is also my oldest and dearest friend. You can see Dan perform August 14 at Spit Dat (Emergence Community Arts Collective, Washington, DC) and September 24 at Urban Eats Cafe in Mt. Rainier, MD.
WRITTEN
by Danial Orange
I wasn’t born, I was written.
Printed with embryonic ink jets,
Scripted like graffiti on the brick-red
walls of my mother’s womb.
I am God’s holy book.
If you look, you’ll find:
Bibles in my eyeballs
and Qurans in my corneas,
My bones are adorned
with the tomes of the Torah.
In my chest is a specimen
as Old as the Testament,
And each breath I possess is a
spoken devotion.
So pardon me, Moses,
You’ve parted me open!
I bleed the Red Sea!
If you’ve read it, you’ll see
That from head to my feet
I’m the Bhagavad Gita.
‘Cause this body I speak of
Has psalms buried deep in the
Palms of my hands.
So how is this man
Supposed to be meek?
With “Written by God”
Stitched into my cheek?
Should I seek to be humble?
Or hum loud from the hymnal
That stretches my skin full?
Is it sinful?
To admit that each simple
wave of my hair
Is a page of a prayer?
And that even my pimples
Are symbols
Of scriptural epistles!
Look!
We are God’s holy books!
With souls full of scrolls
picked from every religion.
Our corners are bent and our pages are worn.
For we weren’t born,
We were written.
WRITTEN
by Danial Orange
I wasn’t born, I was written.
Printed with embryonic ink jets,
Scripted like graffiti on the brick-red
walls of my mother’s womb.
I am God’s holy book.
If you look, you’ll find:
Bibles in my eyeballs
and Qurans in my corneas,
My bones are adorned
with the tomes of the Torah.
In my chest is a specimen
as Old as the Testament,
And each breath I possess is a
spoken devotion.
So pardon me, Moses,
You’ve parted me open!
I bleed the Red Sea!
If you’ve read it, you’ll see
That from head to my feet
I’m the Bhagavad Gita.
‘Cause this body I speak of
Has psalms buried deep in the
Palms of my hands.
So how is this man
Supposed to be meek?
With “Written by God”
Stitched into my cheek?
Should I seek to be humble?
Or hum loud from the hymnal
That stretches my skin full?
Is it sinful?
To admit that each simple
wave of my hair
Is a page of a prayer?
And that even my pimples
Are symbols
Of scriptural epistles!
Look!
We are God’s holy books!
With souls full of scrolls
picked from every religion.
Our corners are bent and our pages are worn.
For we weren’t born,
We were written.
My newest tattoo. It represents my spiritual connections to the earth and my maternal grandmother, as well as my love of hiking. It is being done by Emily at Have Fun Be Lucky Tattoo in Baltimore, MD. I feel like the deep connection to nature goes well with the poem above. Photo ©2014 Michelle Dexter