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Something Different for a Confused Soul

 

Nahamah Jackson-Brown is a sophomore at American University’s School of Communication. She enjoys reading, singing, and writing poetry and short stories. She hosts a monthly open Mic at AU for the Black Student Alliance.

By NAHAMAH JACKSON-BROWN
Observer Contributor
NOV. 1, 2007

Compacted and gritty like flour
like a cloud he was lifted
and there in the interstice of the cloud
he was gifted
Although we can’t forget where he’d come from
Because before he was restricted like the roots of a potted plant
Crushed like a pack of ants in the sand
In a crack in the cement
crushed by an unnerved shoe
on an unconcerned human being
because of selfish non-seein’
selfless being
He rose to the occasion
But like the waves of a sea
he crashed back down into the water
Unnoticed, undistinguishable
Thinking too much of himself


Photo by Observer Staff

but had no action or will to back it up
His mouth rolled on and on like an open plain
But his life was all but as smooth as this plain
Instead he ran through a field full of sturdy sugar cane
and unlike grass the cane wouldn’t give
So he was stopped and tripped and some times he split his lip
He got tired fast and would stop and sip
But fail to realize that the water from the well was unclean
This was obscene
he would run on for days
And wake up and realize that he had only
Traveled farther than the well in his dream
Instead of being a team player
He believed he was the team
He always failed to notice the gleams
In the members of his tea
Some twisted way he thought the gleams were beams of pride
And that even though he was a backstabber people
Would always stick by his side
But no one can stay to long on that ride
He couldn’t even stand to ride that long
On his own pride
Something deep within him
Had survived and had enough strength to tread to the surface
It came up to his heart whispered to his lungs and came through his mouth
Muttering something about living a life with purpose

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