How It Was Poem by Kandayia Ali

Our world is slowly being taken away from us through the constant recurrence of natural and national disasters. We run around in circles searching for answers- and we NEVER look to the real master, but the one we put before everything is existence-, only to see the real identity of 'govern-mental' society. Losing our homes, our lives, our loved ones, our faith just to have a piece of something we often times hate- but eat it anyway and it makes our bellies ache and some of us even throw up at the thought. Look at the war we're now fighting and the battles in the past, we've fought. Never really had a reason to be involved but our people are so caught up worser than Usher- not close to opening their eyes to see that WE are killing WE; not one man killing one man, but ALL men killing humanity; strippin us of our real identity a chosen species placed on the pedestal by the Almighty.

Our children cry because they don't understand why we lost our home and the water washed away the land around their swing set. Now, it's covered with mud and the neighbor's dog's blood, and will be fossilized on a memory of how things ‘was'. Not wanting to cry with them, you try to show them another way other than this pain that you see in their eyes today- 'we have each other, we have faith, we have life, we have hope, we have love.' Only if they really knew; that in this world, today- it surely seems like that's not enough! Until my struggle is yours and yours is mine we will never truly see that we're being led blind.

If we don't look at what matters and make better choices and pay a smaller cost, what we're losing now will not be the only things lost. Our souls will be damned and they say hell is worse.. Can you picture that? Hell being worse than this hell we are the producers of here on Earth? We need to put the right master back in the seat for a permanent stay and keep it that way- unless, we come together with true faith, hope, and love as a whole- because- if we don't- we may as well lay in the mud along side that swing and fossilize with the memories of 'how it was'