Oh, my maker! U have made me a fire! Burning in a world of a seemingly endless winter… I am here, waving at and beckoning to my heat, those I see who need my warmth, with my arms of light bearing orange and yellow flames. What I am can keep them safe and alive if they only saw my purpose! The reason I was built and set in the first place… I see them in the distance though… huddled together and shaking in the darkness and cold unable to move away from each other… I burst and roar to cry to them, “ Come to me, oh u foolish and frozen people! Break away from others who know no better if u would survive the night and see the dawn in cozy warmth and not as a block of ice!” “Hey!… hello!… can u not see what I am?… and can u not see where u stand?… u curse the snow constantly but u come not to the fire!” “ Oh, my maker!… they’re too cold to hear my popping and crackling… I burn for no purpose! Why did u make me that which I am?!… inviting, hot, and Illuminating… but a fire that burns here alone!”…

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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