Growth I knew my story wasn’t finished I use to beat the pavement my home and solace was the corner, the place we ate broke bread with all our meals no matter how frigid the temperature made us feel all we wanted to do was post up and chill blunt after blunt we became stoners.

I turned to my ancestors for strength and guidance surviving lashing, lynching, hosing, and sit ins irony we stood up to adversity battling underhanded government tricks to my mentor the revolution will not be hidden.

Like all other leaders we suffer peacefully alone the things you don’t see the stress, the ware and tare on our mental health, the establishment’s persistence of resistance, and the supporters chants no time for compromise but I lay bare on the cross a loner.

I write, speak, and fight for the best culture, history, and poetry that has not yet been written.