The hole…

Subhanallah! The eyes of God!… his knowingness… I won’t say memory, because my Maker is above time and not a prisoner of it like I am. Yesterday and tomorrow’s dividing line has no meaning to him. When my home is here… In this hole… my life’s fire would of long ago been burned out and turned into ashes. No more heat. No more smoke. Neither being able any longer to comfort another with my warmth or burn anyone with my flamed fury. My inevitable future home… a cold hole of earth… lying there in silence. Awaiting but one command. “Rise from ur grave and come back to me!”… u believe not?… well, I believe in nothing else. I’m under no false impression about my mortality… I’m a product of finite elements… water and clay…but with a God-created immortal soul. The journey doesn’t end for me… and I thank to my Allah I’ve been given this soul-saving gift of knowledge. I’m not free… nor will I ever be… “take urself into account before ur taken into account!” The believers learn. So for this hole and what comes after I prepare. Fighting an inner war everyday with enemies u can’t even see. This is just me… u don’t agree?… that’s ok, but just let me be me and believe what I believe. Pack Redfeather

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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