Telescope

I see the hope of the Ancestors. Our redemption comes swiftly. The pain of thousands of years are wiped away. The Big Dipper pours out love on the Diaspora. We can see it. We watch through a telescope. We lean and learn on the faith of Fulani formulas. The Great Revolution of Blackness perceives the time. New moons wait for us. The rings of hidden planets set the atmosphere of heirs lost. Found. We watch and wait for the shooting stars over Sierra Leone. The lens captures the secrets of Somalia. Africa looks to the sky for the coming of characters left out of lovelorn lore. The shores of space rumble in anticipation. The axis tilts in favor of Black progenitors. The scope of our beginnings come into focus. The truth of our forever plays before our eyes, in the telescope.

We need a great escape. We need relief. We need love and healing. We need to bond together. We have to lean on what we know. We have to separate ourselves from myths and lies, allies who have an agenda. We have to have the mentality of a sovereign Black Nation. We are our economy. Our source. Our refuge. I know I don’t speak for all. This is my fantasy. My dream of being rescued from all the terror we’ve experienced being on this stolen land. America is not beautiful. It is ugly and dangerous.

Written by Michael Allen

Escape Indie 2020

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