Dear Kettle…
You’re black. That said, I just wanted to take a moment to let you know how much you annoy me. It drives me crazy when I am trying to get somewhere and you are texting and NOT driving, yet still moving at a high rate of speed in my vicinity… and… it makes me nuts when you change lanes, out of the blue, with no sign of a signal or a kiss my foot or anything else… you’re welcome, by the way, for taking 100 miles off my brakes and not hitting you… and while we’re at it, it makes my head spin when you talk to yourself.. out of nowhere, this conversation with a person, whom you refer to as yourself, ensues… often turning into a heated argument… ummm… that is so messed up and therapy could very well be in your future.. But why stop there… the clothes you wear look like you had them on three days ago when you passed out behind the dumpster… does everything you own have a hole in it somewhere? And those shoes… i imagine at one time they were white, but now… i don’t know… somewhere between mud and unmentionables… and what is with that thing in your eyebrow…? Like the lip thing, by the way… why, i cannot imagine, but I do… i think it’s cool… Anyhoo, I just wanted to get that stuff out there… By the way, I saw you pass that poor man with his blinkers on the other day on one road or another… Oh… and just to reiterate… you are black…
Sincerely,
Pot
Father, forgive me of my sin of judging your people only on what i can see… help me see them through Your eyes, Lord… and Lord, send me…
A Photographer's Heart 