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The Sovereign Weight: Why You Must Stop Walking on Grass Bridges

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  Let’s stop lying to ourselves. A lot of us are exhausted, not because we lack power, but because we keep trying to build a legacy on cheap, flimsy shortcuts. We’ve been conditioned to look for the easiest route across the chasm, forgetting who and what we actually are. Our Ancestors in the Congo left us a blueprint wrapped in a warning: “Even if skinny, an elephant dares not cross over a grass bridge.” Think about the raw physics of that for a second. You could starve an elephant. You could deprive it of water through a brutal dry season until its ribs show and its energy is depleted. But even a malnourished elephant still possesses the cosmic mass of a giant. Its essential nature cannot be minimized by a bad season. Because of that inherent weight, it cannot trust a bridge made of straw. If it tries to take that shortcut, the structure collapses, and the fall is fatal. As a people, we have endured some of the most brutal economic and systemic dry seasons history has ever seen. W...
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Final GoodBye III- Writing for Healing

His Story is Mine

His story is mines,
Better yet my story is his,
For now I can no longer deal with what was,
Now I have to deal with what is.
A great tree has fallen in the forest of life,
A tree that provided shade for many and a shelter from strife.
But this is not the end of his tory for his story is mine,
And his story will live through his bloodline for all time.
His story is not over because his story is mine, and I need for his loved ones to read between the lines.
Although his body is gone his spirit is strong, that explains why through the pain and confusion he lived so long.
Fear not because his story is not over because his story is mine,
He has made it to peace and he rest with the divine
We are the seeds and saplings grafted from his tree and now he can rest in comfort for his story can be told by we.
His story is not over, because his story belongs to me
For I am a proud branch on his family tree, I will always remember those that came before, those that struggled like no people before.
Like Miles Brown and the lady known as Ms. Ann their stories will live because it was passed to my hands
Like Herman Brown and Rosa lee
Like Geneva and Herman brown the second, and Cleven Brown now can peacefully join their essence
Although his body has now been returned to the earth
His story and their story has been cemented  in  time by Cleven Miles Brown's birth.
His story his mine, his story is ours, his story is ours.
Now tell it.......

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