I recently read my last blog post entitled I Don’t Care. I asked how long before the next travesty of justice. I only had to wait 2 months.
This one hurts a little more, though. It stings a little worse. It’s because I can relate all around to it. It takes place in the state where my family is from and where many of them still live. It happened in a church– the church is an integral part of my life. The pastor was 41. I’m a 39 year old minister. And it happened during prayer meeting. Prayer Meeting.
The cries– our cries– fall on deaf ears. Our riots (uprisings) are only painted as needless violence. Our words are mere digital characters on a screen or ink on a piece of paper. Our intellectuals bicker. Our culture is co-opted. We are powerless and disenfranchised. We have become nothing.
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