All the juvenile centers. All the jails, all the prisons, federal, state, and privately owned. All the drugs, all the hospital psyche wards, all the homelessness just wandering around stealing to eat and feed my habits. all the guns, knives, fists and feet. All the blood and beat Downs on myself and others. All the lies and backstabbing treachery, All the cuts, scars, and cigarette burns on my body. All the women, the obsessive following of my lusts and every strange bed, car, or bathroom they took me. Its all f’d up but it brought me to u…without it all I couldn’t have made u… Since I lost u I haven’t had even a sip of alcohol. No blast from any damned pipe. I haven’t touched a woman. The memory of ur face and voice hurts me deep. But I don’t cry!.. I don’t sit down either!… I grit my teeth and I keep pushing through the world’s bullshit asking my God to forget my past and just let me do this one thing… Be his father!… Love him. Give to him. Be there!

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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