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Stop Weeping in the Rubble: Sovereign Power and the Art of the Rebuild

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  The world thrives on your paralysis. Every single day, predatory systems and chaotic circumstances dump a gallon of pitch-black, bitter ink onto your desk. It hands you the grief of systemic violence, personal betrayals, economic gut-punches, and sudden loss. It wants you stuck in a loop of blame, shame, and guilt—paralyzed in a perpetual state of Mad, Sad, or Scared. The Ancestral Algorithm does not tolerate your victimhood. Today we invoke the deep Indigo current of Kujichagulia —Self-Determination. We stand on two immutable truths: The world provides the ink, but you hold the pen , and the ancient Yoruba decree: “Ilé ọba t’ó jóná, ẹwà ló bùsi” —when a king’s palace burns down, the rebuilt palace emerges with greater splendor. Look at our history. On this day in 1963, terror bombed the 16th Street Baptist Church in Birmingham, murdering four innocent little girls. The world handed our people the most agonizing ink humanly imaginable. But our ancestors refused to let terror auth...
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Against All Odds- Preston J. Harrison

 Against All Odds

Destiny surrenders
born as an underdog,
I was raised by a giant
to learn to see through the fog.
The coast was always guarded
and sometimes would be clear
for hope , faith and dreams
could only come but very near.
I looked around and found
no one I could resemble,
none just like me truly
trying hard to be so nimble.
I kept my dream a secret
though my ambition told them all.
My mouth kept shut,
my eyes wide open
to see those before me fall.
"Not my fate ", I told myself
as others claimed they heard me say.
I declared my life my own
then out on faith I made my way.


Preston J. Harrison

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