Here is the latest installment of Poet’s Corner, presented by the Edmonds-based EPIC Poetry Group

The Privilege to Know

The legacy of family, firmly planted, lives by virtue of the pride in stories told
a willingness to speak the truth, with little regard for shame.

Triumphs, failures, hardships answer only to the conditions of persons, places or things.
No predator sits stealthy upon a ledge waiting to pounce and seize the pain of your trek through impenetrable mounds of snow, recurring moments of doubt or gripping pangs of hunger.

no one hides you from you
what you say and what is said about you stands!

You have the privilege to know.

for some of us our legacy is merely a word on a page no more real than the distorted 8 millimeter image of sasquatch lumbering through a Pacific Northwest meadow

for too long we have relied on the clever pivots of historical Spin Doctors turning, distorting and inventing
telling us who we are, where we have been and what we have or have not done

We have also suffered from self-inflicted wounds!
open sores, still festering,

unwilling, out of respect, to break the silence of our elders
our failing to challenge them to delve into the past,

to recall a time when memories were fresh and the truth was at best a faint light flickering in deceitful shadows

when asked, some glared their eyes speaking “them old slavery days are to be forgotten”
those who spoke consistently said,
“the best way to know where you are going, is to look ahead”

“History is for the privileged.”

for my generation it’s the thousands permutations of being; dismissed, neglected that wears you down

I would like to tell you about my Great Grandfather’s twin sisters,
16 years old, moon light complexions, flowing curly reddish hair,
escaping from boundage swimming across the river, north to freedom
you will never know our story
our legacy will remain an uncomfortable annoyance, largely unspoken
silenced to preserve the mystique of the American legacy of overcoming

“History is for the privileged.”

Gerald Bigelow

~ ~ ~ ~

Who Am I

Growing up in my neighborhood,
I was never a nigger or that little colored boy
just that green eyed, sandy headed, marigny kid down the street

We came in many shades and textures

within the same family
some darker, some lighter,

different hair textures
facial features,

like a bag of M&Ms
different on the outside
same substance on the inside

Who I am is layered like Dante’s 7 levels of Hell.

I was simply me until I stepped out into the “real” world.

Where!

I had to constantly watch my step,
often told where to step.

Careful not to have either lingering or roving eyes.

Best to travel the path of least resistance
in that space affectionately known as the gutter,
a no man’s land, a place for discarded trash and scurrying rodents.

Seldom was a rat lynched for looking at a white Woman
or for not yielding the “The Right of Way” or “White of Way” on a Public SideWalk.

cross contamination between the races
strictly avoided by separate drinking fountains

Yet, little or no concern was given to the practice of black women
nursing the white children of the privileged class.

I could have chosen to remain in my neighborhood,
sequestered like a spider,
trapped, inside a glass jar,

yet, I elected to step out into the world,

Did I change?
Did the World change?

the journey to this moment

in spite of all the trials and tribulations

has brought a sense of pride and satisfaction
an unpredictable calm,

I stand content with an unwavering sense of who I am!

Proud to be:
“Just an Old Man With a Cane.”

Gerald Bigelow

~ ~ ~ ~

At war with “The N Word”

Avoiding “The N Word” does little to address the issue!
the word doesn’t need to change,
attitudes do!

Don’t put your hand over my mouth, or use whiteout,
when you come across the word nigger in my poetry

Many words and phrases that have existed in the lexicon of American English
are now long gone!

no one says “daddio” or “stoved up” any more
I doubt that anyone still knows what either of these mean,

Euphemizing the word Nigger just puts an ice cube into a steaming cup of coffee.
if you are offended by the nakedness of the word Nigger,
then you should be equally offended by its alter ego,

“The N Word” is just the word Nigger cleverly clad in a stylish overcoat.

Stop fighting the battle
Step forward and win the war

Make the word “Nigger” meaningless!

God save the Queen but first get rid of the monarchy!

Gerald Bigelow

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Previously published in the Arizona Centennial Anthology and in Between the Lines, Gerald is a board member for EPIC Group Writers and chairs a monthly poetry group. He edited and contributed to Soundings from the Salish Sea (A Pacific Northwest Poetry Anthology).

In 2019, Gerald was selected to read his poetry with the Washington State Poet Laureate. He helped establish a bi-monthly Poet’s Corner featurette in My Edmonds News to showcase the work of local poets. He has a new book of poetry on Amazon entitled, Memories Looking Through a Screen Door.

Among his other credits, Gerald has read his poetry at the 2019, 2021 and 2022 Edmonds Arts Festivals, read and served on a discussion panel at the Edmonds Friends of the Library, participated in poetry readings and a discussion panel at the celebration for the winner of the 2021 Paz Prize for Poetry (Alejandro Perez-Cortez), and acted as manager and featured poetry reader for Epic Group Writers Poets at the 2022 Day of Remembrance for Japanese Americans held at Cascadia Art Museum in Edmonds.