Mold and crafted,
Shaped and tweaked.
Here I am
With memories bittersweet.
And I stand on my feet,
Knowing who and what I am.
Grateful for this consciousness,
And blessed to be this man!
Bold and unafraid to speak,
About exposed injustices...
I observe on urban streets!
I realize my connection
Is linked within me deep.
I am so much a part of this,
So much I am restless...
And I can not sleep!
Told of limitations born
Upon my heritage.
Given statistics I am shown
To keep my thoughts negative!
But I am more,
Than flesh one sees of color.
My feelings are genuinely fused...
And these abusing views,
Of my brother being used
Bestows no peace,
on my mind...
Like some others!
Mold and crafted,
Shaped and tweaked.
Here I am
With memories bittersweet.
And I stand on my feet,
Knowing who and what I am.
Grateful for this consciousness,
And blessed to be this man!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Hmm... I like it... It speaks to me, for whatever reason... I'm not sure what it is, but it invokes feelings of... Self-awakening... within me... Lovely poem. Warmest Regards, Eliza Stine