A tome for Black Boys from a former one

In 1985… I was told that little Black Boys were “hoodlums in training… at best,” by my middle school teacher, but I side stepped this box and I grew up to become an Author, Poet and Genealogist… but not a hoodlum.

The heroism of small things
as my truth
didn’t fit their myth
so in the box
they tried
to make me fit.

Do not comply, commit to fly, higher above dire straits and conscriptions to fit the description.

Words that echo with the concussive force of love.

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