Mondays and Nothing Else Will Ever be the Same

Listen, Misha and Jordan got me stuck in a anthology-like, but same thread-like, story-vortex-like, Black hole galaxy-like inescapable Wayward Pines type of shit. Had to get that out, because Lovecraft Country (like Trump and Covid) is something I thought I’d never experience.

Anyway, it’s Monday, and so what! No day of the week, no week of the month, no month of the year, no year, this one, or those to come if I’m alive, will never be the same. Seeing the evil of men, the evil of humans of a certain complexion has me shaken and alarmed. I thought I couldn’t be surprised anymore by racist America. Sorry, I mean America the Racist North American colony. The America that seems to be one racist state, united in one cause, mission and course of action-to suppress, oppose, deny, murder, test, infiltrate and completely annihilate Black Folks.

I want to really help people more than I ever have. I want to help our people with tech and internet access. Help get our kids laptops etc. I want to make sure our people aren’t on the streets, have food and gardens. I want to move our people behind a Black Wall for our protection. A place only we can see and go to. A place where all our needs are met. A window opens up in every town across this land for us to step into. It engulfs us, warms us, puts its arms around us, then closes behind us. We enter into a new life of never looking over our shoulder again. There aren’t any police. We are with self, our families, our own. We are in a state of love and healing. No need for doctors. No need in worrying about who will be the next President or governor. Our Ancestors take care of us. It’s not Wakanda. It’s not Zamunda. It’s Black Eden, or Black Earth, or some Black Realm delivered to us at the right time. The pain we’ve carried for so long drifts away from us. We meet our Ancestors in the center of the city in which we live and have a reunion ritual. We dance round the fire, drink, pour out, libations and emotions. We run, sing, cry, hum, lean on each other. We are forever changed. We’ve left behind the slave colony never meant for us and entered into what was promised before the worlds were formed. It is our day of Rest, finally. The clouds gather just outside of the wall to cover and protect us for an eternity and more. Our Black Rapture.

I need something like this. I need to know that God cares about Black folks. I need to know that there is a reason for Black folks catching hell. I need to know that we’ll be fine. I wish I could know why Black folks around the globe suffer like they do. I wish I could free us all. I wish I could see us in another light, free to live, to stay alive. Free to roam.

Written by Michael Allen, Escape Indie 2020, All Rights Reserved.

For the People!