I Don’t Doubt, Sometimes, That I May Not Make It, Among The Chosen Ones, The Steadfast, The Unwavering,
I don’t doubt, sometimes, that I may not make it, among the chosen ones, the steadfast, the unwavering, the ones who stood firm against sin.
But still, I try. And my trying will only cease the day He has fated my end. Perhaps by then, I will have earned my passage to the joys and everlastings of His promise.
I still hope. I still see the possibility. I still long to be part of that eventuality, in the land where milk and honey flow.
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What's heartbreaking is, that some don't even understand the love they demand and desire to be given and this has tremendously led to more oceans of sorrow and unbearable pain.
War has come. Where is my artillery? We have failed, drastically, to reach a truce with life. So now, let the war begin. I am not afraid.
In this decorated room, my soul murmurs a prayer that at least this time, this manufactured happiness can last more than just a nights sleep and that I can forget all of myself without coming back the next day for another glassed antidote.
The rebellion is me.
Love and sadness, Hope and breakage, God and endurance, Politics and suffering. Science and destruction, Education and slavery, Race and division, Life— life, and life.
I waited for a "go, do it," but all that came was "boy, don't do it."
I waited for a "yeah, that's my boy," but all I heard was "shit, what you're doing is shit."
I kept waiting for their acceptance, until hope faded like the day into the darkness of the night.
And so, I accepted myself, invited myself, and cheered myself.
To say it right, the cake was baked by me, and eaten by me. Full stop.
Now move, mate !, what has happened has happened to a twillion of them then and it will happen to a zillion of them in time to come.
My prayers, oh God,
seem to be answered
by the devil.
When I prayed to make my momma proud,
she was taken instead.
And when I asked for the voices
inside me to quiet,
they raged,
trying to burn this
little brain of mine,
ordering me to do
things,
things that could drive me insane.
God,
should I pray in an opposite manner now?
That way it’s easier, easier to accept that I don’t have it all.
To dine and align with my inner being
that keeps on reminding me of
all that am not and
of all that am meant to be but so far I have failed to become.
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