There’s still time to rest.

I’ve seen quite a few posts on Twitter where people are listing their accomplishments from the past decade. It’s been fascinating to see the spectrum of life unfold in so many varied yet parallel forms. Burials and births. First publications and a lack of creativity. Moving and staying rooted.

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Troubled Past

They beat my body. Tore it up like rabid dogs. Their wide palms crumbled then crashed against the wide nose on my face. Boots tripped along my ribs in time. This aint nothin’ new. It happened in camps and cotton fields. Today they march on us in classrooms and on street corners any given morn. I cried out for my mama, for help, for God to come and ease my pain. But I deserved this ’cause they said I ain’t look right. I looked at her, looked angry, looked down, looked guilty. I shouldn’t have looked at all. Now my body is spread across the sidewalk.

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