The Uncharged Current Poem by Solomon Ramakgwa

I discern the truth, yet I remain blind,
A brotherhood forged in the concrete's grind.
Reserve your judgment of a father's name,
Until you've walked the fire and borne the same.
We mold ourselves to shapes that never fit,
Chasing a peace where shadows solely sit.
Life is a riddle, a chaotic, shifting tide;
The hood cares nothing for the soul inside.
I'm sorry it felt brimming, like a cup's deceit,
An overflowing vessel, bitter and bittersweet.
Though we trade in knowledge, the ledgers show,
That wealth is a fruit education cannot sow.
Even if we bartered every ghost within,
We still seek the bridges where the lives begin.
In the end, we are struck by the lightning's arc,
For no vessel powers itself within the dark.
We shatter our bones for those who will not bend,
Breaking for shadows we call a "friend."
Yet, through the wreckage, it is the unknown hand,
That pulls us upright from the shifting sand.