The pit

When ur standing next to the pit… and ur looking straight down into its belly; the reality of what it is and what it will mean for u…all the words ever spoken to u as to why u should just forget this pit and why it was even made, mean absolutely nothing. Once a son joins the service and finds himself in battle, it doesn’t matter how much his mother back home loves him or prays for him… because the bullet that finds his body does the job it was created for…. yeah, it rips through such prayers and feelings and brings the truth of this life home… the truth of choice! U are payed back what ur owed in full with absolutely no loss, good or bad. “Just live ur life Pack!… why worry about such things, no one knows for real!” This is the difference between one who knows and one who knows not… either the presence or absence of self-regard over the ultimate consequences of our choices as dictated by our various spiritual paths. In mine, I see after a wasted life of hedonism and an abundance of meaningless laughter much weeping and many tears… I see this desolately dark and freezing pit… and that’s it.

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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