If u were superior then u would look at me as ur equal, u would help me. but here I lay… Alone on a dusty road. Hungry…Thirsty… Right In ur view, yet disregarded. U walk by in ur fine clean cloths with a full belly, ur nose in the air, and a smile on ur handsomely crafted face. Yet here I lay… But I know something that u don’t. When this is over I shall have more than u. My tears and my hunger pangs are blessed.. Even these soiled cloths I wear. As well as every scratch, cut, and bruise on this tired and aching body that my soul resides in. U forgot who gave u those things u smile about. I haven’t. U believe they’re really urs. I don’t. And just because I know these things I’m not allowed to damn u or curse u. I’m to stay quiet. I’m to wait. Allow u to believe as u choose about urself and ur superiority over me and let u walk ur path all the way to it’s end. The same as ur condition won’t last… neither will mine. I’m known… But so are u… The last will be first and the first last.. So Good luck with urself fine sir! Enjoy ur clothes…

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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