Illiterate

Illiterate?

Being illiterate does not mean a person is not wise or resourceful.
It does not mean a person is mean or prejudiced.
 It does not mean that a person did not want to learn.

Being illiterate does not mean that person is not a decent human being.
War, poverty, famine which are usually the pushes for a person to leave a land they loved and have been a part of for generations.
To deny people a chance to live in our country because they are illiterate is really cruel. It is also hypocritical!

Our nation was built on the backs of people who were denied the right to learn and deliberately kept illiterate.
There was a whole race of people who were threatened
with death for trying to learn to read.

I am sickened  when I hear an official of this country talk about it not being right to have illiterate people come here.
I’d rather have illiterate people who are struggling to do better to come here than to have heartless people trying to keep them out.

Not metered

Power of a Group

Have you ever really seen a snowflake?

Snowflakes are:
A little piece of God’s creation
Stunningly beautiful
Intricately made
Six sided beauties
Fragile by itself

Snowflakes can be blown away by one breath
Have you ever seen one snowflake by itself stop a city?

Have you ever seen snowflakes  that stick together
Ground airplanes, stop traffic, close schools, collapse roofs,
Bring down sides of hills, and topple power lines
Coalesced into snowmen and wondrous structures

Never underestimate the power of snowflakes
sticking together and watching things change.

You Don't Own Me

You Don’t Own Me

You don’t own me, You never did own me
You didn’t own my ancestors
Just because you had guns and whips
And hound dogs that hunted and bit at their hips
But you didn’t own me.
You restricted my movements and kept me in chains
You brought me here and changed my name
You forbade me to speak in my own mother’s tongue
You held me captive at the point of a gun
But you did’t own me

You took my children and sold them away
You made me work in the heat of the day
You stripped me naked and hired me out
Exploited me sexually and tore my tongue out
But you didn’t own me.
My back bears the scars of a man who was free
You testify truth when you hung me from the tree
You could not contain me, my spirit was free
The thing you feared most
Was you didn’t own me.

God put the light  in me  you could never put out
My soul wasn’t imprisoned, and with that I had clout
I bowed my head, but did not bow my mind
The freedom I had was buried within
You could torture my body, you could cut me to my spine
But you never no never could  imprison my mind
You don’t own me, you never did own me. 

Innerviews

This poem came to me as I was reading 

Proverbs 2:1 which talks about storing up wisdom.

I started thinking about storage containers. 

I asked myself how was my 

storage container of wisdom coming?

If my soul were on display

I wonder what my friends would say?

Oh my, I thought she had more within,

But her inner holiness is oh so thin.

The outward form of her is warmly bold,

But, the inward part is skinny and cold.

She looks well put together on Sunday morn,

But inside she is raggedy and torn.

She speaks of love and heaven oh so well.

But her soul is filled with thoughts from hell.

Dear God my soul is on display

God, You see my thoughts both night and day

Please change me Lord my soul renew

So that my interior is aligned with You.

Our Architect

Our Architects

Our great great mothers couldn't build high towers,

So they took their architectural skills and built women of Power.

Their words provided the inspiration 

To look to God to be our foundation

Don’t take no mess, do more with less 

Be determined my child you’re buiding a nation

Stand up straight, sit up tall,  

Don’t try to make yourself look small

The infrastructure the tested steel 

Was their belief that God was real.

The sturdy beams that held the roof 

Was the fact they survived the brutal route. 

The cold angry waves of the Atlantic

Made us stronger and they did not panic. 

The lash, the whip slavery’s position 

Put us in a poor condition. 

Yet through those awful terrible years

 Somehow they knew that God was near. 

Their faith was forged in furnace hot, 

Their backs were bent, Their minds were not. 

They passed along a wealth of wisdom 

Words guiding us with deft precision.

And now we’re built our edifices  tall

Our architects’ words within our walls.

Composed by

Patricia Simpson Newton

February, 2019