There once was a time…
where I believed in believing.
In trusting, in knowing,
In honest receiving.
A time where families were families,
Bonded by the heart
And not just a house of separate entities…
Strangers, apart.
Where mothers were always right and could do no wrong,
Raising their young ones to be different, to be headstrong.
They taught their children the song
The song of a happy life.
One filled with morals and lessons
The cure for misery and strife.
Where fathers went to work and provided for their home,
Protecting their daughters from the monsters that may roam…
In the shadows of the sanguine, soliciting streets,
Or intertwined amongst the sneaky, perverse sheets.
A time where a hug and a kiss was enough
To encourage a child who was different, maybe not tough
A time where grandmothers were old,
Face ridden with wrinkles, creases and folds.
Telling and retelling textured tales of histories untold.
A time where people prayed and believed in God
Reverenced His name
In His temple were awed.
Where people were saved and miracles were seen,
The unclean were made clean,
The sick healed, no vaccine.
I believed in trusting and that if it was said, it was true
That no matter what happened, you would come through.
Loyalty was like royalty.
A pinky promise stuck like glue
Your honest word, at that time, is what made you YOU.
Oh, I did not forget –honest receiving-the last tidbit…
Where I could give you a compliment, a gift,
You voice your appreciation, and that’s it.
No hidden agendas, no ulterior motives
No “quid pro quo”…
…No “I didn’t even know”
To end as I began, there once was a time…
But those times are no more.
We are now in a time where working is too much,
Stealing and scamming from other people and such…
Now, it’s easier and more attractive to be a *****.
Because being independent and righteous is too much of a chore.
Where being Black is a crime
Innocent people are in jail doing time.
Mothers are still daughters,
literally.
Males and females after their own kind – homosexuality.
Fathers are not present, and their sons grow to resent
Their mothers and selves as if they are at fault for these unpleasant events
.
Rumor has it, only the strong and the wise men survive,
Off the power of these type of memories,
That are prayed and relayed in efforts to be kept alive.
No one knows exactly what is to come next,
Life is surprising, confusing, and VERY complex.
But im hoping that a time will come again
Where it is common to love, to be a friend.
Where right is right, wrong is wrong.
Where we can all stand together, united…
And strong.
