I can feel the world unfolding at your fingertips

Location

94519
United States
37° 59' 15.6876" N, 122° 0' 35.5104" W

Sweat and blood cradle it,
It’s the mothers old hands that
Wove its breath.
High above myself and earth,
I can see freedom slowly drifting
Across towering mountains and dark
Clouds.
And we grow like maize as it’s
Children.
Bodies that form from concrete
and overgrown weeds nurtured from the
womb of hardship.

Decorating broken sidewalks the altars of the dead,
Ghostly shadows and candlelight flicker on beer bottles,
Adorned with flowers.
Falling petals like tears.
Stagnant pictures.
Become reflections, where myself
(Generations)
years away from predestined
Futures decided by men, who own the land
The seed , the streets in the ghetto we are willing to
Spill our blood for
Behind prison bars
And abandoned blocks.
Appropriating the belief
That we are nothing
But an echo of who we were
(Kings and queens)
That stood in the presence
Of the majestic nile
And below the sun.
We are still on the slave ships chained

And the rulers of this earth who eat
Banquets while millions starve,
And wear $3000 designer handbags
on skinny pale wrists,
Have never lifted a finger.
While children
Skin gold as sun, bones
Shine tight around faces.
And mothers
Break their backs
For a shack and a meal of
Beans and rice
Bare feet and decaying teeth.
(And this is the America
Where they say freedom
Rings…)

But even in the darkest of nights
Like a poem sometimes there is light and laughter.
In silent death
Peace whispers of goodbyes
Time and time again
Our own flesh feeds the wolves
That terrorize our every step.

Violence is in.
Infesting in the cracks of
Broken pottery souls,
That once shone so
Brightly like hopes
And dreams, decimated by running slopes
Of tears down cheeks.
Black and brown folk all melanin and smiles
In the hardest of times.
Where mommas
Simmer hot food
while rocking a child on her hips
Place where wind kisses cheeks and hardens hands.
(My worth resounds
On these lands )

Collecting dust in eyes
The ashes of long forgotten
Histories , disintegrated
By crack pipes and thug lore
That dominates the very worth of
Our life.
Destruction slowly paves its way to hearts,
We choose to be loveless in a loveless world.
That slowly cuts away sliver by sliver until
Nothing remains but a void imprinted
Forever in our collective symmetry.

Time and events only ghostly spider webs
Withering away
We have forgotten who we are and where we can go.

Beneath metal towers
Burning mass graves
Inside we are concave
Clinging to anything that
Resembles feeling replacing
Liquor and drug highs to a living
Sentiment for one another .

But still
I find you in the darkest
Of darkness .
Likke the rolling depth of the ocean
Breaking to surf.
I choose to live and fight!
Merging with every fiber,
The voices of my ancestors
Fighting for my future to stand
Here and speak.

The atoms compounds,
Molecules,
Love laughter of children
Voices of pueblos
The armed black
Guerilla women
The outcry of revolution
The rolling nebula of a new tomorrow,

Freedom!

I can feel the world unfolding at your fingertips.

Guide that inspired this poem: 

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