Nahamah Jackson-Brown is a sophomore at American University’s School of Communication. She enjoys reading, singing and writing poetry and short stories. She hosts a monthly open Mic at AU for the Black Student Alliance.

By NAHAMAH JACKSON-BROWN
Observer Contributor
Nov. 1, 2007

And this is
How I begin my end
How I sin my sin
How I forget myself
How I am in need of help
But I can’t get it from you or you
I don’t trust you two
Or the others behind you
What you say, I don’t mind you
I’m searching for a truth that has not been introduced

Photo by Observer Staff

So getting your opinions which are not factual would be of no use
And to listen to them would be an abuse
And misuse of my intelligence
‘Cause I know that I know not
And that you would help me know less
Set my mind at unrest
If I just trusted your judgment
Let you influence my decisions
You would make an incision in my common sense department
And replace it will vile nonsense
What you say is worth two cents
But mine is worth the same also
Or even less
So three cents together does not break even
It doesn’t even give me enough sense to believe in
So now this is my wavering season
As I stand on a steep cliff and breath in
It gives me a new set of eyes to see in
A new pair of shoes to be in
But they are too big
I’m picking up to much and its hard for my feet to walk forward
They would rather stay in place
I don’t have no rush this ain’t no race
Not against you not against time
If I’m racing its in my own mind
At my own pace
‘Cause its my own race
I can only trace and retrace the steps that I’ve been following
To see when and where I stepped on and off the path
When I stopped for pain
When I stopped to laugh
When I stopped to craft
These thoughts of my reality
To help me make informed decisions that would effect my morality
In hopes of one day reaching a state where my mind would feel immortality
If not just for a season
Because then I would have a new set of truths to believe and unbelieve in
The cycle of life to me is one that tricks and deceives one
Who thought that they had built up a life to believe in
But there’s was a dream they couldn’t see in or see end
I heard what you said but I dint need too
Those are the type of words I could bleed to
Or spark a seed from
There are two types of people
The significant and the scum
Everyone else in the middle is just trying to become someone or either one of these
We have our saints and our thieves
We play interchangeable roles with these
Lets just hope that during our life time we end up
Where we should be
I try hard not to judge anyone
But its so hard cause they judge me
Its so hard even though I know I shouldn’t let any ones judgment determine for me who I am going to be and not be
It’s a sea of revenge
My hurt feelings I seek to avenge
When instead I should let it go
Reputations are everything
I thought
But that is not so
If it was
Then many a good men would be banished
And many a good soul that lives their entire life famished
Would have no hope for themselves
If reputations were all that their were to base your well being on in this life
Then you might as well give up on living a life and get comfortable with living in strife

View more of Jackson-Brown’s work:

• Ode to My Ladies: You’re Worth More
• What I Want
• Something Different for a Confused Soul