The
Sound of a scribbling pen
After my father passed
away it would be the last time in my life that my mother would physically pick
me up from the ground if ever I fell down unless it was a life threatening
injury, those years were hard for me because I was young and didn’t fully
understand but don’t get it wrong she did this out love, there was a hidden
wisdom she knew a secret that in the absence of a man I would have to learn
very early in life how to pick myself up and keep going, I would have to learn
to be my own cheer leader and motivator and I would have to teach my mind to go
ahead my soul to provide the energy and my body to follow, my grind would have
to be more potent more relentless and to this day I thank her for it. I look at
my generation and my counter parts and many men have fallen over and they have
stayed there waiting for someone to come and pick them up, they have become
baby hooeys’ boys in men’s bodies and sadly I have to let them know no one’s coming
to pick you up so get up or go home this is just life.
No comments:
Post a Comment