Old Man


Like an image from an Ansel Adams photograph, his dark brown skin stretched thin over a face that has seen better days. He hurried down the avenue at a pace that belied the need for the walking stick he held tightly by his side. Where was he hurrying to? Where was he hurrying from? Was there…

I Don’t Know About Reparations


When I walk down the street you make sure your car doors are locked, you hold your children closer and cling tighter to your purse. You remember to have that conversation with your daughters and shopkeepers are more vigilant when I walk through the front door. The instrument used to terrorize generations of my forefathers…

Too Long Tired


One more mountain, One more valley, One more river to cross. One more sorrow, One more heart break, One more disappointment To overcome. One more dashed hope, One more lost dream, One more cry for help, When there is none. One more broken spirit, One more unanswered prayer, One more search for reasons why. One…