Worn

Worn Out|Vincent van Gogh – 1881

beaten into defeat,
worn and torn, his
body cannot go on.
he leans into himself,
gathers the strength to
breathe out a sigh, and
tucks his sullen demeanor
into his pockets.

two more shifts before
night’s end.
will he make it?
can he make it?
he doesn’t know, but
he will try.

that’s all that’s left 
of him.

Give Them Something To Believe

Teaching the youth. My older cousin Phil and my younger cousin Alex, his nephew. Photo Credit: Tremaine L. Loadholt

Here, you see one of my older cousins speaking to one of my younger cousins, his nephew. Phil, my older cousin, is a successful businessman, an entrepreneur continuing to grow his brand. He has a vast amount of knowledge to share with anyone willing to listen and I watched him as he spoke to my cousin Alex, giving him pointers on what to do in life with his talents in order to have his dreams come true and in turn, work for him.

I sat there amazed by the exchange. As you can see, Alex is listening intently. He is focused. This is nothing new to Phil, regularly, he speaks to hundreds of people who have aspirations of being self-employed and successful in the fields of realty and investments. One of my brothers started his own clothing line, S.T.T.Y. (Stay True To Yourself) and a number of our family members have jumped on the bandwagon and are supporting the Kid by purchasing his creations. The first person I told my brother to reach out to was our cousin.

Young, African-American men need this. They are often hanging by the seat of their pants, struggling because they don’t know the way and they have no idea which path to choose. I am investing in my brother’s company. I believe in his dream. I tell him how exceptionally proud I am of him and I make it a point to rejoice with him when things go well and genuinely empathize when there are hiccups along the way.

The Kid, Posing, but he’s no poser

I want what is best for these young men in my life, for them to reach out and pull back a star. For them to jump up and shoot to the moon. They cannot do it alone. The village is still needed regardless of what some people believe. If we are not willing to get our hands dirty in the mix of catapulting our young ones to a height they’ve never experienced, who will? We must give them something they believe, show them that there is more beyond fast money and slow thinking. The future needs to be filled with a plethora of them paving the way for more and more and more little black boys who will yearn to be for and work for themselves.

If they’re dreaming, don’t crush it. Help build it up. Nurture it. Water it. Speak life over it. KEEP THEM OFF OF THE STREETS! The kind of money out there is the kind that’ll leave them wanting more or send them to an early grave. Our intention should be to watch them live, watch them soar.

If they’re flying high, they won’t have time to come down. Build a young black man up today. He needs that.

Believe me, he needs that.

12 Years

It comes before one’s ever truly ready.

And, although I’ve started and stopped several blogs, I’ve held an account here at WordPress for twelve solid years. Of all the blogging sites that I have tried, this one is my favorite. Time flies when you’re growing, doesn’t it? Will I see another twelve? Will WordPress? 

I guess we shall find out.  Thank you to each of you for reading, connecting, and building with me. It has been a pleasure. 

Peace and blessings. 

Holes

Post oral surgery. Friday, November 16, 2018.

On a blistering cold Friday morning,
I ventured out. In the comfort
and care of my cousin, we
maintained an appointment for
wisdom teeth removal.
I bit the bullet.
The top two were removed and
now, I am recuperating, ruminating,
and wrestling with thoughts of you.

Sometimes, you sneak up
on me when I am not prepared
to battle throughout the day because
of our many differences. I will not
say that you drain me, but you
hopscotch on a couple of sensitive
places and I refuse to have them
boxed in again.

And as I swish water from side to side
in my healing mouth, I think of how
it would be to finally have that one date
you’ve been threatening to take me on
for two years now.
And I name it, place it in a bag,
Toss it up in the air to see
Where it lands and my guess is
And will be on NEVER.

I am an optimist, but I have to be real.
These holes in my mouth
Do not tell the future,
But the ones in my heart do.