Sunday, December 7, 2008, the premiere of my first book at the Urban Think! bookstore in downtown Orlando. 27 years of writing, and three years effort to arrive at this day. There's so much to say about why I had to publish, and why I fought to overcome every obstacle that presented itself:
On the Occassion of Sisyphus' First Book
I have studied every facet
of the boulder I have been pushing
as it rolled by underneath my straining brow
as it was fogged by my striving breath
as it spun below scrutinizing eyes
like the topographic map of my life:
This chink, the place where I lost control of the stone.
This polished surface was ground down by a gravel slope.
This side is where I learned to hold the boulder steadily,
When the effort defined my identity.
I became this boulder on this mountain.
I married the futility and became the task.
And over and over and over and over and over, again
the question was asked
how long can this last?
Eventually, I fell asleep pushing,
unconscious struggled under stone ,
dreams burgeoned shaking bones.
There are a thousand reasons every day
to not tell the truth,
what you feel, not to say
to chop down a cherry tree and
frame that little punk Washington . . .
to hide your wounds and words away.
In the end,
two endings:
to fail, surrender my effort, abandon my stone.
Or to understand what the pushing means, and push on.
The pushing has made me strong.
The hurt assures I know.
Having to tell you, has pruned my shame.
Writing it down means I grow.
The use of my youth, is now that
I loved you all with my truth.
Finally, I am not the boulder. I am the bolder.
