I wasn't sure exactly how I should handle this. Questlove of the Roots eloquently expressed himself when he said that the verdict showed how little he was worth: http://nymag.com/daily/intelligencer/2013/07/questlove-trayvon-martin-and-i-aint-shit.html What do I say? Not sure.. I know that the weight of the present is on top of our shoulders, pressing down. This is a weight that is felt by some but not all. It is an invisible and, at times, you get used to it and forget that it is even there. However, there is always an incident to snap you back into reality. You stand less tall than others as a result of the burden weighing you down. You are less. The weight of the past? That doesn't exist anymore.. now does it? That's what I'm told, at least. The past and the present.. Oh, how they intertwine..
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Bessie The door was cracked open as ma went out earlier. The storm they heard of on the radio really was coming, and it mad the sky look like it was having a funeral for the sun. The porch creaked underneath her big'ol feet. "Bessie is that you?" Ma called out to her. "Yes ma it's me." She replied. "Well, why are you sneaking like some thief?" Ma scolded her. "donno ma." She replied to ma. "Well, you know I love ya?" Ma called out in a softer tone. "I know ma." She told ma. She took a few more steps outside and she saw ma rocking in that old rocker. Ma had pa's old shooter on her lap. As ma saw her ma gripped pa's shooter. "Bessie you know I love ya?" ma called out to her gripping pa's shooter. "I know ma." She told ma. "Well, why are out '