By Beauty Damned

Had a Moment

Robert and I watched the movie "Piñero" yesterday, about Miguel Piñero's life, times and ultimate demise. We both really liked it. I have a deep affinity for poetry, as it was given much importance when I was growing up. My dad had a poetry publication in law school with a few friends and I always loved listening to them recite poems for eachother's enjoyment. I've written a lot of poetry myself, but am not confident enough about it to share it here. There was one scene in this movie where Benjamin Bratt, who played Piñero, recited a poem that really grabbed me and squeezed my heart as hard as I could possibly imagine a poem squeezing me. I've felt this way before, but it's been a long time since I've heard a poem that literally drew the tears from my eyes the way salt draws liquid from a vegetable. I couldn't contain the way it made me feel. So I'm sharing it here with you.

Seekin' The Cause
by Miguel Piñero

He was Dead
he never Lived
died
died
he died seekin' a Cause
seekin' the Cause
because
he said
he never saw the cause
but he heard
the cause
heard the cryin' of hungry ghetto children
heard the warnin' from Malcolm
heard the tractors pave new routes to new prisons
died seekin' the Cause
seekin' a Cause
he was dead on arrival
he never really Lived
uptown . . . downtown . . . crosstown
body was round all over town
seekin' the Cause
thinkin' the Cause was 75 dollars & gator shoes
thinkin' the Cause was sellin' the white lady to black
children
thinkin' the cause is to be found in gypsy rose or j.b.
or dealin' wacky weed
and singin' du-wops in the park after some chi-chiba
he died seekin' the Cause
died seekin' a Cause
and the Cause was dyin' seekin' him
and the Cause was dyin' seekin' him
and the Cause was dyin' seekin' him
he wanted a color t.v.
wanted a silk on silk suit
he wanted the Cause to come up like the mets & take the
world series
he wanted . . . he wanted . . . he wanted . . . he wanted
to want more wants
but
he never gave
he never gave
he never gave his love to children
he never gave his heart to old people
and
never did he ever give his soul to his people
he never gave his soul to his people
because he was busy seekin' a cause
busy
busy perfectin' his voice to harmonize the national anthem
with spirit agnew
busy perfectin' his jive talk so that his flunkiness
wouldn't show
busy perfectin' his viva-la-policia speech
downtown . . . uptown . . . midtown . . . crosstown
his body was found all over town
seekin' a Cause
seekin' the Cause
found
in the potter fields of an o.d.
found
in the bowery with the d.d.t.s
his legs were left in vietnam
his arms were found in sing-sing
his scalp was on Nixon's belt
his blood painted the streets of the ghetto
his eyes were still lookin' for jesus to come down
on some cloud & make everything ok
when jesus died in attica
his brains plastered all around the frames of the pentagon
his voice still yellin' stars & stripes forever
riddled with the police bullets his taxes bought
he died seekin' a Cause
seekin' the Cause
while the Cause was dyin' seekin' him
he died yesterday
he's dyin' today
he's dead tomorrow
died seekin' a Cause
died seekin' the Cause
& the Cause was in front of him
& the Cause was in his skin
& the Cause was in his speech
& the Cause was in his blood
but
he died seekin' the Cause
he died seekin' a Cause
he died
deaf
dumb
&
blind
he died
& never found his Cause
because
you see he never never
knew that he was the Cause.