I remember trying to reason with a 3 yr old… my son. Crying up a storm because he was told no to him having whatever it was that he wanted. I’d shake my head at his inability to see past desire into reason. Kids… nah, looking at it honestly I find myself in his old mood now. I’m not on the floor screaming and kicking my feet around but most definately I’m bothered over some things and having petty thoughts concerning things I want but can’t have for personal reasons. Waiting waiting waiting… I see others unbound in certain fields of life and I find that I envy them… shouldn’t… but honestly I do. Adults living like children… Peter Panism hahaha… my honor lies in my ability to get off my butt and mow the lawn when the blades get too long on the grass. Staying home and sleeping because u’ve got work in the morning. So much I have…so why do things I don’t have bother me so much…I see the point of my March…fighting enemies no others can see but me so I can maintain some kind of real life instead of languishing behind bars like many are expecting I return to doing. No no no… my sword and shield. Jr… he’s one of the biggest reasons that i haven’t folded… returning to my son as a man and not as some shadow of one. I look around cass lake and see so many guys out here wandering around with no purpose when somewhere behind them some kid’s wondering about what having a real dad’s like. Many say I’ve done well. I’ve got a house, truck, clothes, food blah blah blah.. just stuff.. I’m grateful yeah, but I’d give all this stuff to the first stranger passing just to have my son in my life again. Stuff has no soul. Doesn’t need a hug or kiss… what the hell are u ppl doing who choose drugs over ur blood ur own children???… but… who am I to judge… I miss u son. I gotta go…peace

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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