The Brotherhood of The Nod

Wherever we go we take mental notes –

survey our surroundings like recon missions.

Most adept at playing our positions.

Without a sound we both speak and listen –

a “Roger that” with a quick chin lift and

an immediate return to park.

 

This innocuous gesture marks

our membership, for we are a part

of the Brotherhood of the Nod.

Our order is fraternal.

Whether we tuck a Wall Street Journal

in our pit, or perch a chew stick between our lips,

sport hard bottoms or Timbs,

spring wool or denim on our limbs,

the gesture informs…

The man inside his uniform

is a Brother from the set of Nod.

 

This is how we initially engage

before unwitting eyes on the public stage.

No fist bumps.  No pounds. Just the quick up and down

of the melanated mandible. It’s clearly understandable –

“I don’t know you, but I acknowledge you,

My Brother of the Nod.”

 

Bald head or dread, light skin or dark,

this chin lift conveys we are Brothers at heart

navigating terrain that is dangerous.

Despite being nameless

to each other, we recognize we are Brothers,

so we Nod.

 

This maneuver strikes some as peculiar.

Their unease uncovered

by the fear that we might, in fact,

all know each other.

Jumping to conclusions that their exclusion

must mean revolution is afoot

to exact retribution for what they took

from the Brothers who Nod to each other

in peace while we dwell in the land of the beast!

Acknowledging the humanity of each

with a simple nod of solidarity.

 

-HymnAgen