A Roof Over My Head Without Refuge
by Thomas Beckwith
When all else fails, home is the one place
a person should run to for comfort.
But I don’t have a home; I haven’t had
one for a while.
Digs and gazes are simply a reminder,
I live in a place that will never be home.
I might as well be homeless pitching a tent
in the wilderness.
If I show emotion, I am angry at the world.
If I have a blank stare, I am emotionless.
I might as well be Algernon, but don’t give me
any flowers.
The truth of the matter is there are people
in the world who go by different aliases,
but their name is really
Brutus.
I cannot show my dismay without
being labeled as an angry Black man.
However, it is statistically significant
that “the man” wants me to shut up.
I am a Black man with intelligence,
and I have demonstrated excellence,
but it’s not enough.
I continually must defend myself,
whether it’s because I drew a line
in the sand, my own demons, or
the earthly devils
who are gas-lighters wearing rose-colored glasses.
I came out of the womb standing up for
myself.
***
Thomas Beckwith is an Assistant Director for the University of Florida’s Office of Academic Support, where he provides support to students including academic coaching, leadership development, and holistic success planning. He also enjoys writing in his authentic voice, finding it to be a therapeutic way to process experiences and overcome past trauma.
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