In some random cemetery I kneeled and picked up a handful of dirt… I poured it all back on the ground and looked around at all the old headstones that filled the place. “ Hey strangers!” I said, “Peace….I hope!… to u… to me… guess I’ll be joining u soon. The great unknown… unknown to me, but u I guess, ur deep in the knowing now, right?… well, shit.” I stood up and took a sip of water out of the plastic water bottle I was carrying. Damn, it’s hot! I thought. Cold water feels hella righteous going down. H20… life’s little origin secret. Yeah, life sucks! But thank God I’m alive I guess. If that even makes sense, I continued thinking. What do the dead truly feel but either nothing or everything! The Joy of anticipation going home to an abode of bliss, or the absolute terror of the now known reality of recompense and inescapable justice before God’s judgement seat. If that even makes sense either lol….”who knows?” I muttered out loud before kneeling back down. Once again speaking mostly to myself, but also to my silent, resting, and interred companions, “So this it!… my next stop in the never ending story of me!”…” And again, oh mostly and sometimes completely forgotten dwellers of this shabby but overtly hallowed place… peace be upon u all…I’ll be joining u soon!” Getting up I was unsure if I truly believed in what I had said or if I was just being overly sentimental. Life, death, resurrection, and judgement?… heaven… hell?… damn, man… today’s hearts and minds respond more to the calling of their private parts and fantastic stories of spiritual freedom taught to them by pop artists and movie script writers, than text book old world theism. “ Chill out Pack, as if the Facebook generation would even know what a theist or theism means anyway. Get real! Just let it go…and let go… go!”… tired of talking and arguing with myself in the middle of an old graveyard that I didn’t even have any relatives in…I left… touching the markers one by one as I departed, making promises of my soon return…

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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