I grew up along the Brazos River
Not far from an old cotton plantation.

By the time I was a child, it was in complete decay
And it left the same in the lives of those
Who had been slaves for generations afterwards.

I remember the first time those descendants
Rode our bus to their raggedy old school,
My generous, childish heart ached for them.
Much later, they'd go to the nice modern one.

I made many new friends on those rides.
I let Cookie brush my hair, as the other girls stared.
She was "high-yellow" or bright, as they would say.
My heart thrills to see them now grown, come into
The beauty of life as it was meant to be lived by all.

Yet, now evil forces seek to undo that.

The words hit like a ton of bricks,
Wedging fragments into the crevices
Of my heart as it hit within the space.

That is what happens when

You
  Pick
   At
    A
    Thread

And you get truths hidden within the lies.

I asked a simple question
One without commentary
I was curious, that is all
Because I am a curious person
And I like to learn

In today's world, it is relevant
"Is this poem AI?"
It is an honest question
Without any judgment
YES NO, circle one.

Yes, go ahead
Remove the label, "pervert"
From many other things
But when it comes
To the abuse of children
Let it reign supreme
NEVER to be removed

Ask yourself:
What will I do when I am seeking political refuge?
When political unrest comes to me and mine?
When you reach safer shores, what faces do you hope to see?
Hard and hate-filled faces, or the softened kind faces of strangers?
Ask yourself honestly, then change your stance, now,
Because it is coming quicker than you think.

A garden is like a book of poetry
Peopled with lovely flower-folk.
O, if they only could walk,
You'd imagine they were dancing
As does a poem in rhythm's meters
Dances along, one-two, one-two
In a sort of singsong.

Evil is born with little effort.
Goodness?
Through the struggle from within.

Evil eats from the inside out.
It tears at its own flesh, consumes 'self'.
Goodness?

It must be nurtured on the decomposed
Death of the evil growth within
Like some parasitic twin.

Goodness can win, must win.