I wonder if you had been frightened staring down the barrel of a dark tunnel
Now and again, I sneak a peak to where you have gone
I grance and wonder
had the bleak scope made an impact
Did you understand where you stood
had those faint and painful smiles been a matter of what we have always done?
Lying there with your god and your rosaries had there been relief or repentence?
Tunnels have a way of squeezing out the memories
Memories, so long over looked.
In the end of your travels could you stop worrying about that which has not happened yet?
I thought like you…I had been raised to
Not once did the light at the end of the tunnel open up to anything new
Glancing up and around, and threw, as you did, could there ever be all that you wanted to do
these were the days
a walk through the park to find school
where you did not look like me and that was cool
when a cross is what you wore
how being poor meant you want…needed…more
hatred was a myth and true love was not a choice of sides
living in a rural community came with a deep sense of pride
Nixon had been a joke
our leaders were encourage to enhance hope
these were the days where my peers had a right to be wrong
when constriction left quickly but humbly asked to belong
all eyes were open to all colors
there were three channels and nothing on
these were the days when information did not make me cry
where believing had not left me wondering a collective why
when violence had not been given a side
Grant me the serenity to change the things I cannot change
The courage to change the things I can
And, the wisdom to know the difference
Americans are increasingly adopting the use of cloth face masks to slow the spread of COVID-19, and the latest science may convince even more to do so.
Crevices surround my veins…there is no glory here
Such as the rust from falling leaves
I would use my words
I recognize my words
My words do not recognize me
This inner rhetoric can be severe hanging like a web in the wind
Now and again, I am but a stranger with spindled oaky hands
remembering what is left of this land
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