When I was 12 a big brute of a man took me in the back yard with all my football gear on while it was pouring rain and ordered me to try and run past him. I did… he blasted me full force like a man and I hit the ground on my back unable to breathe… I cried… “get the fk up!… now!!!”… he thundered at me. I did… he shouted for me to do it again… the same thing happened… over and over again for what seemed like forever…. again on my back… soaked… and breathing hard… I said,”I can’t!… I can’t get up!”… he didn’t hear me or give a shit because again he hollered at me to get on my damned feet. Slowly, I did!…and guess what u child bullying piece of shit… after 50,000 beat downs by a life 50,000 times worse than u ever were… I’m still on my feet! Fk u!!!

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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