[We are honored to receive this essay by Minton Sparks. Sparks is an internationally known performer, winner of the prestigious Southern Writers Association award for Best Spoken Word Artist & regular performer at the famed Bluebird Cafe, Ryman Theater & Grand Ole' Opry]
I rain answers to her question, “what keeps you safe?”
When I get buried in the jail behind the bars that the monkey paints I come out shooting with a truth or two and the heart’s resonance shouts back at me, “I’m scared too”. He’s scared too. We’re all scared too.
I gain strength from others whose resilience keeps me safe, whose dedication to family keeps me safe. The speed limit keeps me safe -- most days, the mere thought of the wondrous cross keeps me safe.
To tell you the truth it’s mostly forgiveness that keeps me safe. When I wind my way into the next unforgivable, Forgiveness stands there in a white gown, or blue shoes and nothing else.
Hell, how should I know what forgiveness wears? I’ve watched her cast her eyes toward the ground. Forgiveness knows she’s powerful but does not necessarily want to be famous for it. She’s sweeps up glass shards after drunken all night parties, she touches my back when my skin is hot with shame, she lives in that broken middle distance between two who used to love, just singing, singing in a beckoning way ”come back, I’m sorry” and she never stops.
I swear to god that Forgiveness never stops singing and I can prove it. We are still sitting here across the table from each other. “Because she lives, I can face tomorrow, because she lives all fear is gone.” (a bastardization of the Baptist Hymnal.)
Forgiveness isn’t dull. She is razor sharp. Though she squints into the sun, so as not to taunt the glare of the facts, facts maul Forgiveness’s buzz like nothing else. She water colors most days, prefers the blues; while I trade dancing for self -disgust, or trying to nail you for what you have and haven’t done for me, make a mockery of that pale light coming up over the morning of your eyes.
You, my friend, have taught me about forgiveness. I dance with you into that pale light shy and shining from your eyes.
We may be weary now, bloodied and broken. But watch how forgiveness wraps us in her silken robe, and rocks us to sleep. Her sacred stones beneath our beds soak up our memories of real and imagined injuries.
What keeps me safe is forgiveness. May we drink from her silver chalice kept in the golden saddlebags she wears like a perfect vest to the dance?
-Minton Sparks
