Words to Jesse… on your way home

Tear drops
in ink,
when the Elders
become the Ancients.
Summoning words
for giants,
who dared
to instill mantras
for lil’ ones
to echo, mightily
like the younger
incarnations of me.

Reminders that
we were somebody
and beautiful,
equipped with tools
to do Godly things.

Hold your fist
up high,
pen in hand,
words to Jesse
on your way home…
a job well done,
from traversing bridges
with Kings,

dodging stones
of intolerance
countering
with darts
of eloquence
while aspiring
for excellence
in lands pock marked
by evil men,
who defile English relentlessly,
but I will not succumb
to the Tomfoolery lain
on path.
I will get up,
because,
I am somebody.