Spoken word by the spiritual poet

This thought was inspired about 20 years ago by the cyclical systemic roots of indemic poverty which pervades the urban enclave outside the gated communities nationwide and its malginant magnetic pull on our youth population.  Again, this thought was written in a matter of a couple of hours by inspiration.

“The young, the hopeless, my people”

Entrenched deep in the womb of Mother History before time immemorial sprout the roots of an indigenous spirit that is indomitable and resilient; and she has chosen us the sable, intrepid, and the beautiful to live out the true meaning to demonstrate that love is able to cover a multitude of sins.

Sometimes I look out through the windows of mine eyes and my spirit begins to cry because of the malignant plight of my people.  Our community has endured a perpetual harvest of blight on every hand and side and the minds that once thrived as a metropolis city pregnant with the spirit of innovation has experienced a chronic case of paralysis from the scourge of the task master.  Our men have committed apostasy to the family principles which were the bedrock, chief cornerstone, and pillar of the home.  No longer do they uphold the role of their ancestors but they have lowered the rod of morality, integrity and reverence for God to an all-time low and have empowered the spirit of trepidation, cowardice and corruption to take deep-seated root in the mind of their offspring.  Young men no longer dream dreams and have visions of rapture and old men no longer impart wisdom to the young for their mind have congealed and become brittle because they have sold their birthright to education in exchange for a transient ecstasy in the days of their youth.  They have not turned from their wicked ways, have not seek God’s face and have lost the key to prayer and today the fruits of their labor have become a generation of vipers, a predator unto their own, the pestilence that stalks at noonday, the wicked that sprouts up like grass and a generation that drinks up the night.  No longer can they look to the hills from whence cometh our help; for their heads are held low from the yoke of their forefathers and the eyes of the community have grown dim and weary, tethered by the anchor of destitution.  Truly, the hungry lion that is on the prowl seeking whom he may devour is none other than our children whom we have relinquished to the gallows of the streets.  His fangs glistens with self-hatred, claws sharpened by deprivation and the saliva that drips from his mouth burns with revenge as his mane stands tall with pride in ownership of asphalt in the absents of achievement.

The cry of the young drives a wrenching pain to the heart of every mother but it still stands hopeless, unanswered and soon to be silenced because there are no seers to descend from Mt. Sinai to unveil the revelation of God in the 21st century.  Their eyes filled with uncertainty, reach out for security to the failing arms of alcohol, cocaine and other substance abuse in hopes that they could steal away in the arms of the night to be at rest from the curse of abject poverty.  Others, who thought their feet were planted securely on a broad place, lose heart and quailed in their call to manhood for the ground on which they stand was sinking sand.  They sit incarcerated behind the bars of their mind pining away from the shadows of their past and tormented by the dismal future that waits and some sentenced for life because the key of education has been kept out of arms reach.

Where are the seers of today who are willing to robe themselves with the mantle of truth?  Men with discerning spirits emboldened by the canon of God whom have put their hands to the plow and have become bulwarks to secure the stronghold of God in our community.  Who will pledge allegiance to the word of God and offer up themselves as a living sacrifice in such a time as this for our children?  We need the remnant of God’s portion, the salt of the neighborhood to come to the fore and bellow the clarion call from the bowels of the community, stirring the men to bear arms, empowering them to roll away the colossal stone from the gateway to life and pursuit to happiness.  Too long we have sat idly by awaiting for our black Moses to come with a word of deliverance (i.e., “Thus says the LORD”) or a new king that carries the aura that is intrinsically a part of the dynastic lineage of great heroes and heroines of the motherland from time immemorial.  Too long we have endured the mental scare of being told we are the bottom of the pile negroes, the black sheep of the human race, the outcaste, the foundling and too long we have sat in the seat of complacency and disillusionment while we are herded in droves to the concentration camps of the ghettos.

It is high time for us to stop this cyclical undertow; for we must begin to repair the breach in our lives, family and community in order for healing to commence.  For a community, is a group of people that adopts the same beliefs, standards and way of living.  So, if we have no common grounds on which to rally our people, how can we amass the potential vigor needed to divorce ourselves from abject poverty; for she shall not be our cup of communion forever?  We must move as one arm with a force that yields a magnitude that is to be reckoned with, less there will be no resolve.  We must remove the veil of darkness from our mind, which dwarfs our potential as a people collectively and individually.  From the depths of our innermost being, we must muster up the strength to overcome this inertia that plagues us as a people and to be courageous for our children.  The maxim says the people perish from the lack of knowledge, how much more our children if we don’t feed them?  They look to us as the way makers in their lives to pave a runway in which they can become airborne to ascend to the zenith of their potential.  Therefore, we will not succumb to the spirit of the age but we will stand sturdy and staunch forever unmovable in alliance for the sake of posterity.  For we have come this far because of the men and women of uncommon valor who have rendered themselves as sacrificial offerings to the altar of freedom.  So it is imperative that our children begin to walk with their heads held high and erect; for they stand tall on the broad shoulders and rich history of our community and we harness the wherewithal to be the enablers of their future.  No longer will we stand by and allow the laughter of our children to be stolen by the spirit of sadness, the entrepreneurial mind with the spirit of lethargy and the vision of a dreamer to be eclipsed by the shadow of death.  So let us turn the barren lands of our community back into the meadows of yesteryears, the valley of dry bones into the mountain of transfiguration, the desserts into thriving savannas and the empty streets into superhighways teeming with the spirit of autonomy.

The spirit of racism cannot be confronted with the spirit of fear but with the spirit of love, power and a sound mind.  Her face has no complexion for she wantonly prays upon those who will let her in and allow her to incubate into a hideous vengeful self-destructive organism.  And when she has finished her indulgence all that remains is the mere husk of what was once the cathedral of the mind, heart and soul of man.  So let us not look without but within for the impetus we need to rise above the inclement climate of hatred, racism and abject poverty to behold and welcome the face of change within our community on behalf of the young, the hopeless, my people.