Memories of my childhood, as time takes its toll
On my humble existence, come frequently now.
Luckily, most are pleasant. I long for those times.
Mine before me were victims of horrendous crimes
Against non-white humanity. Can I know how
History of my troubled race can make me whole?
No, it can’t. It’s a drama that will see no end
Through lifetimes of evolving yet at a snail’s pace.
Generations will gather the wheat with the chaff
From the ones come before them. This odd epitaph
Is inscribed in behavior that none should embrace.
It remains something experts cannot comprehend.
Being with others is proper social hygiene…
At least way back some time ago… I can’t recall.
But I do know what I’ve known since I don’t know when
That A Pleasant Time surely will come once again.
Expectation, this turn around, is far from small.
Common sense shall instruct us to keep the shit clean.
To hang out and relax with family and friends
Is tradition most sacred, time honored, and true
To the heart’s recollection of love and of peace.
I look forward to seeing world morale increase.
I have one urgent duty, and I’ll follow through.
Blocks to my memories only action transcends.