As my face rested upon my prayer mat on the hard dirt floor the tears came…the shame of what I’d done while u yourself stood by and watched me do it, forever the silent but ever present witness flooded over me. Yes, I used ur name as a curtain to hide the vilest of deeds…using sacred phrases I’d learned to lower the arms of god fearing men so that I could take in stealth the treasures of ur temples. And How I spent and wasted so much of what u did not sparingly but very generously provided me while others weaker and more vulnerable than I went without their daily bread. While men and women fought wars within thier very nature’s in ur remembrance to guard thier private parts and keep chaste for their husbands and wives, I fooled the foolish amongst women with words of godly wisdom to lower the bridges of the castles they were bid to protect only so I could appease the beast within me. Yes..ur servant the serpent…slick and slithering in the tall grass looking for an innocent ankle to bite while the working men worked in their fields under great toil so that their wards could eat from their labor. This thing that I am…Truly malicious and contemptible yes that’s been proven, but even yet, I’m still here…still being noted and watched though in a state of respite. Only now do I understand though that these acts of mine could of been halted at any time. That my arrogance blinded me to a fact as piercingly bright as the North Star. U allowed what u allowed because u saw what I did not…that ur all encompassing hand surrounded my every move. U could’ve crushed me yes, but why rush to destroy?…u are a teacher and not an impatient tyrant. And Because I yet knew not the boundaries as I trespassed u did not completely take me to task…but u guided my way to having knowledge of the two roads…one easy yet filthy and one pure yet very hard to travel upon. The consequences of knowingly choosing to walk upon either one was made clear. No…although we choose, we are truly never free. Belief in freedom from ur grasp is the biggest of lies which perpetually give fuel to the egos of the wicked. Good or bad…I am urs… and Uve shown me by the fact that I am still able to be here bowing before u regardless of my past ways that u are the most merciful…and that mercy is the key to all goodness…and so I bow…thank u oh great teacher!

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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