Home is when your ailing uncle drained out of his blood, stares you in the eye bloodshed worried for you. Your only grief is one that time may heal, yet his life’s purpose is to humbly be about others. Home is the joy, the brotherhood, walking in the streets feeling invincible, well accompanied. It is that connection, inexplicably unkept but as surprisingly as ever, self asserted. Home is the strength of the family in it’s faith, the grotto of the granny, the crosses on the wall, the similar prayers, devotion, that God may lift [ … ]
Mind is buzzing of thoughts I’ve nurtured through my stay. In all the questions I’ve sought answers to, I’ve discovered many more to be unsure of. In the stare of that man begging, wandering from wagons to streets, seeking coins to satisfy his hunger. The draw of luck may land him a bill that would make him feel satiated but not forever satisfied. He may wander, but he is far from lost. He knows where to be. He can read kindness in the patrons eyes, perhaps gambles at times, or just desperate. Regardless [ … ]
Strides feel heavy, I fear the very street I live on. I consider myself lucky, the man shot by the cop on tv is of a far lighter shade than I am. Yes, somehow it feels his shade mattered, because that’s the only rationalization I could come up with. My mom’s entire paternal side would all be sentenced to death just on that basis. Dark, and not of any kind, Ebony shiny dark: my heritage. So I limp, face down. I cannot explain the startled look of the guy walking across me, he’s [ … ]
No one will ever look back and see this lad having left all his heart on the line. Uncomfortably, but uncontrollably he loved all the way. The story turns into talking points. The why? The maybe you just foolish. No one will remember the zeal, the breathless moments. The commitment to do right, not only to oneself but also to those that upheld him. No one will remember the heartaches the struggle to shake off, someday it will be a senseless memory of the past. Bitter to the none forgivers. Sweet to the nostalgic. And comical [ … ]
Mama Africa Oh you of rich history, legends and tales, envious to no other, Nations of hospitality, so welcoming, duped into forsaking your own birth rights. Oh you of morals, high and unflinching, beliefs transcending supernatural, Engrained into a way of life, the way of life of the motherland. Oh you land of flourishing fauna, deep savannah, blessed soil with minerals. Oh you of plenty faith, banner to your identity, that brandishes your faith, which ever it may be, as the only way. Oh you of rich family ties, may your brothers be more than blood [ … ]