I remember beating a man up while his child screamed for me to stop and leave his daddy alone… A long time ago. Today I seen a guy with his little boy congratulating him on some word the boy had spelled out. Proud daddy… Proud son. Here I stand today… A former criminal with a broken heart. Yeah, I see what I’ve done…I know all too well why some label me insane… I was… Maybe… Probably in my way I still am… I’m trying… Who are u to say what God is going to do with me… I’m sorry I’m away son.. Daddy’s sorry but I’m not turning my back on the dream that I can get this right for us….ever.

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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