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Thursday, February 15, 2018

On the Eve of the Beginning

Wonders of the Pyramids
Wonders of the Pyramids - image credit unknown

On the eve of destiny, my dreams and hopes -stored in the souls of my ancestors- were smothered by a need to escape injustice; --but like you, my sister, my brother, I'm a stranger in a strange land.

Likewise, my hopes and dreams were limited, choked by the need to survive. --who wants to die at sixteen?


On the eve of the beginning of pain on these shores, ships holding stacked bodies of the strong, docked adrift from harbor. Unpacking men and women, strong and proud --shoving them onto soil sure to burn the soles of their feet, while catching their flowing tears. It was our own never-ending trail of tears.

On the eve of my so-called freedom, my ideas held my dreams and hopes, a gift from my forbearers. Not understanding my captors, I shared my ideas --at which time they were studied, critiqued and later labeled impossibility. O what defeat! My captors stole and implemented my ideas without my permission and that without compensation.

On the eve of this painful revelation, when I was old enough to understand, angry tears inched steadily down my war-torn face. I cupped my face in my hands and passionately asked, "Lord, how long?" Nobody was listening.--so I thought.

On the eve of hope, a gleam made its way from my soul and sparkled in my eyes. For a moment, I believed our condition would revert back to its ruling roots, revival in Judah. For that brief span, I thought I heard in my head an affirmation that said, "Not long".

My history is untold. It's ever-evolving, bigger than an eternity of Februaries. It will receive its proper due and applause in the end.

At present, my legacy -the legacy of a people once-enslaved, who yearn for freedom yet to be realized - that legacy rests yet in the hands of an oppressor who writes laws to replace the chains that once held my fathers...

...when bands of strangers who combed the night in search of prey to hang from a tree were replaced by armed men claiming to be 'the law'.

"Father, YAH, there's a target on my back!"

It would take an eternity to count the unjustly slain of mine. Therefore, assigning the shortest month for the telling of the longest history robs this barbaric humanity of its roots.

What's February got to do with my history? Who ordained such a sarcasm? My head falls back in laughter at this absurdity. My history is yet unfolding, being told with each breath I take. Away with this ignorance!
Once upon a time:
Our chains fell to the ground in Egypt, under the power of deliverance. We murmured and complained while in Exodus. As afore told, we turned our backs on our Deliverer. Having abandoned our Savior, our fate was sealed.  
On a ship named 'Jesus', we came to this strange Babylonian land, wretched and abused, in subjugation. 
There's freedom in understanding why we're among strangers who despise us.

-From my collection of writings entitled "Feel My Pulse".

Shalom

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