African Americans we have no reason to hold on to the American’ dream. We have no logic to pray our stock will champion self. For it is not, a plausible reason to adopt the culture of White Male Supremacy and consider yourself saved. My question since understanding religion at the age of 8 or 10 years old. Why is that White man on my mother’s bible? For the life of me, I could not grasps that connection. Nonetheless, she (pretended) to worship something that only supplied more fear and sorrow. My mother died a horrible death waiting on the White figure that did not exist. She cried and mourned herself to death….I felt hopeless almost like a villain or a death seeker.
How could she pray and pray, yet nothing arrived but darken tears. The sun removed, the darkness soaks the faint attempt at dying by my hands. For surely, I had enough of this life, I began to mourn and behave like my deceased matrical. The storm whistling such a demise, yet, the summer coolness bleeds on my toes. I send this message to announce our evitable death while waiting for God. No such spirit would place the irony of our ways…or shall it. I run toward my mother but she’s not there. I hear her laughter, but she’s not there.
I describe her to my children and grandchildren. But, she’s not there. There is no light for the blind, no cup, that swells with water. My soul has never healed from my mother’s death. I am a lonely pot, unfit to find strength in myself. Yet, I remain drunken, an intoxicated brute incapable of throwing her bible about. She cried, so much to that book, I hate it then and despise presently. There are no blessings for Black mothers’ that cry in the night….None.
The Invisible Dragon