Lawrence S. Pertillar Wounds Poems

The more of the past,
One has been blessed to live...
To experience.
The more difficult it is,
...

The wounds of...
Those in secret and themselves bleed.
The wounds of,
People who in silence believe...
...

The issue of race...
Ignored and left unexplored,
Will not erase what has taken place.
Or not being able to face its destructiveness...
...

The occurrence is happening.
And swift it appears.
The awakening of many admitting,
Of a truth to have attacked...
...

That which once mattered.
Has now been torn and tattered.
And scattered around chatted about.
By the ones who thought it fun.
...

As a writer and broadening with a point of view,
Expanding without a hint or clue...
To prepare me when this insight has arrived.
And I've grown accustomed to the flight...
...

Those told what to do most of their lives,
What to think, how to think...
What not to believe or listen to.
And who is stupid,
...

Not impressed am I by those,
Who drag wherever they go...
Their exasperated aspirations.
As if an experience they have initiated,
...