The cycle of Brutality 😔

The cost of humility is self doubt. Is it the undertaking of frustration or anger that fights for the drivers next? The agony of being still, with the gratitude of being present leaves a bitter taste in my mouth. Why does resting in my ‘blackness’ feel like a burden, rather than power the resembles mother earth?

Shake my head.

As the world scrummage through the events of brutality I wonder. Do I speak up of the injustice that we as African American people still fight for today? Weak and subdued they may think of us. I stand the ground of acknowledging that the lack of knowledge keep my people oppressed and ignorant. Yet, the essence of our unity is the epitome of alchemy.

Who am I to speak on behalf of others?

I have seen the face of racism and pray in the quietness of my heart.

I am no prophet, or preacher. Yet, with a conviction in my heart, I too just like you and others, have been created in the likeness of God.

We as people, not separated by race, or gender, need to look within. It starts with accountability of our worldview which is held. Especially those that are called to serve and protect, I petition, have ears to hear and a heart that understands.

If the harm of man does not affect you may I dear challenge you to dig deeper. If the act brutality does not affect you may I dear challenge you to think, what if it was your brother, or sister?

Let’s take a breathe 😔💨.

You’re voice matters.

💓 you guys!

✌🏽 out, and check you in my next blog.