There’s a Fire in My Belly
It’s a rage of living in a country where white supremacy and racism are viral.
So, here I am again. Day 3 or 4 wanting to write something with meaning. Something to hold onto. Demanding justice for yet another Black man who was crushed to death.
Murder is murder. Why and how can that be ignored?
My fingers have laid poised over this keyboard waiting for my anger to settle into something real. Searching for words rooted in a symbol and all I feel is a fire in my belly. My anger is real.
This rage is mine but there’s more. It’s a rage of living in a country where predominately white men abuse their power. White supremacy and racism are viral.
I’ve seen the look. The smirk. The fist. The crunch against skin. The blame. Centuries of repeated killings. Yelling their lies to cover the stench of hate.
I hate too. I hate a democracy that isn’t true.
I hate that differences are killed. I hate how loopholes are created to avoid their own fate. I hate how the abuse of power is seen as right.
I asked the Fire in my belly, lend me your energy.
Fire spoke the rumble of seven splendid storms. Her long strands were the color of wind gone wild. She wore a shield of thunder and had a heart of love and a soul as deep as the sea. Fire carried in one hand a single red rose and in the other a cup of tea.
Summoning me to sit down. She placed the rose on my kitchen table and gave me the cup of tea.
Fire spoke directly, quietly, deeply, assuredly with these seven wisdoms.
#1. The art of making a good cup of tea is patience. Use this process as your meditation.
#2. The rose is a symbol of layers. It starts as a tight bud and opens gradually. There’s no holding back a rose from rising to its beauty, discernment, and depth of layers. Be a rose.
#3. Justice is a deep river. Follow her to the end of your days. Go where you know you must and let anger fuel you. The lightning bolts in your rage will guide you.
The fire in your belly is there to assert yourself. Your sensitivity will strengthen you. Many won’t notice you. Nevertheless, use how you blend in as a compass.
Know, without a doubt, what is in you is also in me and respect each other’s individuality.
#4. Trust yourself. Don’t believe anyone who says, you are just a woman. What could you know or do?
#5. Listen, respect, and learn from People of Color. They know the truth.
Truth is marginalized because it understands the fairness of power and the instability. Yet, truth doesn’t control but spreads its seeds so others can see how it is marinated in love.
#6. The fire in you is the fire in me. We alchemize our differences and embrace diversity.
#7. Stay with the marginalized. That’s where you feel at home. This is where you belong.
No sooner had I finished transcribing Fire’s words the rains began and the thundered roared. Soothing a dry earth. Cleansing the air. Punctuating it with truth. The fire in me turned to a clear blue focus:
I need to keep speaking and writing my truths to challenge a system fraught with lies, fraud, and malice.
Carolyn Riker, MA, LMHC, is a licensed psychotherapist and author of three books of poetry and prose. Her latest is My Dear, Love Hasn’t Forgotten You. If you’d like, follow her on Facebook at Carolyn Riker, MA, LMHC or Instagram.