How can it be that some people’s redeeming strengths are also thier weaknesses that ultimately condemn them?… Somewhere in-between these two there’s a line I need to keep being attentive to… I lose sight of it at times because I’m forever flooded with feelings… Seeking to help but only finding hurt. I was told to offer my hand to the distressed and downtrodden. So many though would snatch my hand out of blind panic and pull me into the rushing torrents of the river with them though to drown not knowing any better. Is this to be the end then that I’ve both sought and also fled from through out my conflicted traverse here?… I don’t know… The death of a sincere and penitant martyre or just an overly zealous fool?… God help me because I don’t know the answer to that…

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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