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The Trap of the Armed Chief

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The Trap of the Armed Chief Drop the heavy shield/ When the village stands as one/ Peace becomes our wall. If you have to walk through your own living room, organization, or community with an ox-hide shield strapped to your arm, stop lying to yourself: you don’t have a sanctuary. You have a perimeter breach. We love to romanticize the solitary grind. We praise the brother whose jaw is locked so tight his teeth might crack, convinced that if he drops his guard for two seconds, his family will starve. We crown the sister who absorbs the emotional debt of three generations, smiling through agony while her spirit suffocates. We call it "holding it down." Ancestral wisdom calls it what it actually is: a confession of disorder. “When there is peace in the country, the chief does not carry a shield.” A shield is forged for blood and blade, not fellowship. When you refuse to take off your battle armor around your own people, that shield isn’t proof of leadership—it’s physical eviden...

Till we meet again

I havent poured a libation since you left,
My tears are the testament of the sorrow that I feel, and pray they will push you threw.
These are the tears of a selfish man. For they are not for you but for the empty space left by your living this life.
But we will meet again
Your life has etched the map for me to follow to the ultimate place of rest, and i am grateful for the time we spent and i glance at the picture of you holding and now I hold your memory as tightly.
I wont and cant say goodbye, lets just part and say till we meet again....


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