A Sunday Morning



10:42AM

Supposed to be
But what is supposed to be

To be 

We all 
Already are 
Everything we 
Were born 

To be

You are what you see 
I see the light 
I gaze and fall into the fire 
I become 
What I am supposed 

To be

I called my auntie 
We talked and she talked some more
And I listened 
And we laughed 
And I know she needed to hear my voice and I am so delicate when it comes to her religion 
She’s old school 
Bonafide 
Westernized 
Christian 
Lost in the ways of the word
Powerful on her own accord but gives glory to one outside of herself not realizing she is her Highest Self
But she taught me 

To be

Strong in meditation
Get up from my bed at 4:30am and say to myself 
Breakthrough for breakfast 
Read for a while and take a walk 
And drink some water and 
Listen to the quiet on the city on a Sunday morning
Before everyone is up 
Across the street from the methadone clinic
In walking distance from the city jail 
Free them all from themselves 
Because no man can hold us down
We are one 
But some are blind 
And some are afraid 
None of us are disconnected 
But some of us think that way
I don’t 
I know who I am 
That’s why I have the audacity to teach 
My babies 
Who they are born

To be




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