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A vision of life died recently
when my beloved moved
to a memory recovery facility.
No longer will she live with me
but will receive care she needs.
An adjustment in our life plan,
a necessary one I will concede .

From the ashes and dust
of an inactive mind,
collecting dust, old thoughts,
which may be just fine.,
unless they have warped.
Morphing into a different view,
no longer a memory,
is viewed by our society.
What is this you say,
my thoughts, once sound,
have left me alone,
below the deep ground.

When the last breath of reason
has left your mouth,
you will find there is
no argument or discussion,
which can be made,
to those unwilling to
see the evil in this hypocrisy.

A 1000 sharp pains;
A whip to the back,
for being in the way;
and being born black.
What kind of punishment,
is this, he now fears?
It manifests every day.
Why do humans
behave in this way?
He is a man,
the same as you
but the color of skin,
is the only difference.
He loves his music,
just as you do,
so why do you beat him,
For what you asked him to do?

Today's soul,
is here to stay.
Even your EGO,
won't drive it away.

Tatoo a snake
across my arm.
Tell me now,
how I am,
worse not best.
Cast me from
this place, mine,
for I'm godless
with my soul,
ensnared with thine,
in this odd World's,
barbaric and Byzantine.

Photo shared by Heather Cox Richardson from Letters from an American

Black was the depth
of his aged soul.
No rightness to see,
in his life as a whole.
Why is the anger,
inside of he?
Can you not live life
and let things be?

Are there words
you see, when you pray?
Words of salvation,
awaiting our judgement day?
Those words, rich with fruition,
promising the Lord's love,
with total absolution.

Do you know me?
I once was your son.
You told me to leave,
darken not your door.
Where you once lived
is "Off Limits" to you.
Did you not see,
you are not wanted here.
Just leave this place.
Leave it alone.
Don't bother to write.
All these harsh words,
were never said to me,
as my family's love,
is still strong to say,
"Do the best you can
to overcome your poverty.

The loneliest road,
the one you are on,
with words of sorrow,
could soon be a song.
Don't take my word,
look far beyond,
for Country Music,
will soon be sing along.

My song is short.
Your hair is long,
as eyes of brown,
look back at me.
Were we friends,
from long ago,
or kindred souls,
who I love so?