Cebo Campbell

As Long As We Are Humans

Save me and I will save you.
Else they break us in two.

Forward, now, with the wolves behind us —

By and by, I see dreams
deferred but unforgotten;
festering yet in places
Where city cars breath louder than the earth
And blue lights paint the edges of everything,
Where the sun burns bright enough
To dry a raisin.

What I know is that We are a kindred, human,
in that
we are being hunted.

Hunted for our wants
Hunted for our time
Hunted to distract
So we may never know our lives cosmic;
Know our bodies galactic

But remain, as we are, limbs of a dismembered something.

Save me and I will save you.
Else they break us in two.

As long as we are among humans,
let us be humane.

A new nobility is conferred
in brownstones
in basements
in chevys headed west
in riot sounds
in a golden South
in hair shops and barbers
in a language of the age.

The noble WE.

We. Us. Principle Experiments.
They do not exist.
Nor them. Nor it.
Only us. Alone and together
like the fine molecules of a mountain.

Mold the faces of our dead on our memories
and go forward,
while the wolves are behind us.

Stand and face Lazarus. Face them. The desperate,
the dangerous, the marginalized, the exposed.
Do not turn away.
For they will turn away.
And, by and by, the lovers, teachers, poets, thinkers
until we all turn away; back to back

And no longer remember our names.

Save me and I will save you.
Else they break us in two.

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I am an author and a Creative Director.

As a full-time creative (VP of Creative Services at Spherical), I spend most days writing in the nooks and crannies of my available time. I wake up at 5:30am just to get in a few hours putting words on paper. I write on the train. I write on planes. I write waiting in lines. I feel I have to write. The reason is simple: representation.

I often tell the story of Ferris Bueller; a kid who decides to skip school and, on charm alone, steals a car, impersonates a cop, drinks underage, tampers with computers, and at every step exposes his best friends to peril, only to go home and fall asleep with his mother to kiss him into sweet dreams. I asked myself if Ferris were Trayvon Martin, how might that story end? I know the answer. So do you. And this is why representation is so important. I aim to contribute more stories into the world that diversely feature regular (but beautiful) lives made extraordinary. Art, I believe, is the only way to accomplish this. All my creative work is inspired by and aims to add to all the great work in the world.