In the darkness, unable to discern shape or form… we’re all the same pretty much. I say pretty much, but not really all because while some would rather sit safely and cry out for help to an endless cavern of nothingness, some choose to stand…to risk the bumps and cuts to the face and body bumping into walls, as many as they have to in order to advance and God-willing find a way out or die falling into some pit, trying at least. I believe I’m one of these People. Since running isn’t an option for me, and crying out to people who themselves need rescuing is a complete waste of my time, I go forward in the dark, reciting prayers in preparation of meeting my ultimate fate… will it be the cave door?… or some hole in the cave floor leading to my unfortunate but very bloody end… we’ll see… yeah, We’ll see!

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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