(DIVERGENT)
So many times has man crossed this threshold only to be led off track by fantasy.
This ignorance perpetuated and perpetrated by those sitting on pedestals erected mentally.
Kings Queens, presidents and ungodly regimes leading man into another erea of slavery.
The cosmos reverberating in the throes of birthing this tragedy, this disease.
Undulating like the strings of a violin, vibrating sadly.
So many looking in the other direction, eyes averted by the distraction.
Facebook, Tik Tok and Instagram.
Puppies on the evening news.
Seen?
Another generation gone away to the land of thinking that they did all that could be done.
Buried in a hole six feet deep and sporting a headstone, buried with gold and shiny stones, what if we had listened to Marcus?
To Malcolm.
To Nat Turner.
Different outcomes and our children probably wouldn't be dying in these streets.
Victim of an unaddressed situation, where have all the black daddies gone?
Where as a people are we?
Food stamps, section 8 and welfare having murdered the
black family.
Woman don't need no man,
Another intersection, another election where we vote for who he wants, not who we need.
Preacher's inviting the beast into the inner sanctum, laying with him in a metaphoric and physical state of sin.
It seems like we done lost the seam, such a shame, such a savagely orchestrated conundrum.
We stand here in the whipping winds, so hard so cold, here we dwell at the crossroads.
JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY
