Albino Lizard

I was shocked last night reading over Bahá’u’lláh’s, Ode of the Dove, as I noticed the word “blood” being used in the poem repeatedly.  I’d read it and studied it before, even wrote a version of it which I feel has better rhyme and meter, while remaining understandable, then either of the other two English translations that I know about, obviously spending a lot of time with the Ode. While I noticed the repeated references to blood previously, I wasn’t obnoxed by it before as I was last night. Last night I was even embarrassed, since I’ve had the Ode on my website for almost a year now. So last night, as I was falling asleep, I asked the Author of the poem to explain to me what these references to losing blood are about. I mentioned some examples from my experience, and one from my imagination:

“Next time I hike through the buckthorn, should I wear sandals, shorts, and a t-shirt, in order to maximize my blood loss to the thirsty buckthorn needles?”

“No, that’s not it. That’s not the kind of bleeding We are referring to.”

“Shall I march up to someone with a gun and try to wrestle his gun away?”

“No, not ordinarily, unless someone you care about is an immediate danger, and it is REALISTIC that you may be able to help them.”

“Do I get points for the time I fell face down while trying to navigate a slippery slope wearing flip flops? My left cheek bled plenty.”

“No, but there are some things in your background that qualify.”

“Okay, how about the time, in 1969, that I found myself in a neighborhood of Cleveland, Ohio, called Little Italy, with my husband at the time, who was black, and I am white. I made a stand for racial Justice and got beaten bloody for it.”

“Yes baby, that’s the thing We’re trying to get across with this idea of shedding your heart’s blood. You made your point about racial Justice, then you poured your blood out for the angry mob. Then you were taken care of.  A car stopped, you got in, and were taken to help and safety.”

“All when I was very young and didn’t realize the big picture, but I always was passionate about Justice.”

My ex ran out of there as quickly as he could. He ran one way and I walked the other. The mob burned our car. We had been visiting a friend we had met at a park. Then someone started hollering right outside her apartment, “There’s a N… In there,” and my ex immediately exited. I said, “Goodbye,” to our friend, and walked toward town. I saw a beauty shop where I thought I would be safe. The bigot behind me yelled, “She brought a N.. in!” and a beautician or two started beating me with their fists. I staggered outside still being hit.

I was young and I healed. We can’t let Jim Crow come back. This was a hard battle.