I had waited all day…an emaciated wreck of anxiousness and anticipation for this tiny little bag that just arrived… here it is…my???… my what?..my loving friend???…My murderer?…whatever! I was alone in a cramped dark attic with a very low ceiling. On my knees very hot and profusely sweating. No damn ventilation up here. One tiny dirty window, but it was nailed shut…screw it…I’ve got what I need I thought. Alone with my savior at last! F’ng glass! Crystal meth… I dug in my pocket and pulled out the baggy and carefully layed my bubble down. My f’ng heart! Beating a mile a minute as I tried without success to continually open the baggy. Rrrr! My dang fingers…not obeying me! Too anxious! Slow down Pack!… huh! What was that???… somebody in the house? Sweat running down my dirty hot face into my eyes as I stood stark still listening like a crack headed ninja for any sound in the house. No one! Keep going… picked up my pipe… too dark, where’s the pipe’s eye? Rrrr… damn sweat! Wipe it off! Ahhh my baggy! Shards all over the filthy attic floor! Lost in the darkness! $&@!!! Rrrr!! Nobody heard me that early morning screaming out of my terrified and delusional mind… no one except the one who made me with so much planned care… behold!… a man!… the cream of the Almighty’s creation… an addict…a broken mess!…

Published by Pack Redfeather

I am a walking contradiction of traditions some say. An African American and Native American Muslim poet with a personal life history as violently turbulent as a Storm. A visionary from the bottom of life’s social barrel striving to share the hope found in the light of faith through sometimes dark but real poetry. I’m a former member of the Bloods street gang, former serial bank robber, and both federal/state prison convict. I live on my mother’s tribal reservation of the Leech Lake band of Ojibwe in Minnesota.

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