Tuesday, January 20, 2009


Its an hour after the midnight that passed on one of the most historic days in my lifetime...
One of the most historic days in YOUR lifetime.

While you were poppin champagne,
Celebrating defeat over John McCain,
I was laying in the blood stains,
Of another brother slain,
Waiting on those winds of change...
But nothing changed...
And no one came...

In my mind I have lost the count of cops,
That have pushed my people from the mountain-top,
Where Dr. King had his dream,
and it seems like,
each night
is the same
is the same
is the same
black and white print
with different black and white names,
black on black crime
with different colors for each gang...
and if these sidewalks spoke
they would choke
on the blood
that floods these streets
and the stench of oppression laid beneath
these feet,
wheels, connect to stretchers,
bodies beneath each sheet
bodies beneath each sheet
bodies beneath each sheet.

The one word we use to cope...
- the thought of a mother
as she walks around rope,
or chalk,
and stops at an
unmoving soul...
she doesn't know
who's son this is...
its the shooter's mind
the cops don't know
the gun is his...
its the victims last gasp
hoping God made his
lungs too big...
hoping...his lungs
to take only

This is the death...
of hope.
When the last tear
has turned from drop
to river
on a mother's cheek
and God has not delivered
a miracle...
When no number of tithes
allow a lost son to rise
like Lazarus upon the cries
of those around the casket,
someone has to ask it -
Where is it,
Where has it gone,
Where can I find it,
Where is this "hope"?

And so I packed a bag,
with an apple and a jug
of water -
And I,
started walking.
I started walking,
and i was lonely, so i started talking
First in a murmur, then boldly wondering how
I could possibly change the world now,
Because all my life I've been living in a cloud
Pretending to be oblivious to the world around
Following a crowd,
on a bridge to nowhere...
But tonight I choose not to go there.
Tonight I am finding
And as I chatted with myself,
A few bystanders questioned my health,
Some followed and asked if I needed help
in my quest.
"There is no time for rest" I declared,
And they stared but followed,
curious to my destination,
wondering with whom my conversation
was being held.
The crowd began to swell -
Hundreds turned to thousands
children pointed from windows
of public housing
watching with
strange delight
as night fell upon
the gathering.

I took the last bite of my apple
as the crowd slowed beside
a chapel
on the roadside.
"Its here", I whispered.

I fell to the ground,
on feet,
body scorched by the heat
of travel.

The crowd was quiet.

"Why are we stopping", a woman cried
Thousands of people stood behind,
eyes on me,
the sky was green
with moonlight.

I asked her where she intended to go,
and she spoke of her family in Mexico,
Another man chimed, of how he wished
to climb
a mountain, to prove time had not
passed him by.
A young boy spoke of a school for art,
While his sister yearned to learn
how to heal the heart.

I lay there.
Saying nothing, I felt a breeze
Splash against my back,
And I smiled.
This was hope.
The first step and
The last step
The feeling that what is
Can be had.
The feeling as you close
Your eyes
That what happens next
Is for the best.

Hope is heaven.

-RUKUS copyright 2009

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