While my face is on the floor in a dimly lit room asking for both u and I to be guided… ur hundreds of miles away in a dark room putting a hot bic lighter under a glass bubble exhaling ur soul away… while I sleep soon to be awakened by my alarm to once again pray and then head off to work, ur on ur phone bug eyed all night while ur kids are asleep, texting other high and wide awake lost souls around the city about dope deals, God, and the meaning of life… yeah…although I’ve been there… I still don’t understand… I don’t think I ever will… even if I do go back to doing it myself…it makes no sense…wake up…no…wait…go to sleep…Gn ppl

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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