THE TRAIL OF TEARS

I’ve found myself crying a lot lately. That’s not an easy thing to reveal. Such a taboo topic for a prisoner. But I would really like to see a prisoner who has never cried. I’d like to look into his eyes and see what I can find deep within.

I’ve found my emotions being evoked to new heights over the past few years. Feelings spiraling through me like blizzards, hurricanes and hail storms. I’ve become abundantly aware of my state of being as my eyes release these liquid expressions/memories/statements.

I find myself feeling like a vent or a filter where I’m acutely aware of each element flowing through me. I’ve also come to experience my chakras swirling around my earthly shell causing me to feel the presence of my soul force speaking through energy.

I’m unaware at this time if it’s becoming easier or harder to cry. In 10 years I have walked the trail of tears many times and for different reasons. At times they were invited – other times, not.

In 2000 I wrote a poem entitled “When the Soul Cries” after I spontaneously combusted into tears in front of a comrade on the recreation yard while telling him about a dream I had the night before about my child’s mother’s mother (whom passed away from cancer in 1995). While I still have not been enlightened to the spiritual meaning(s) behind my emotional breakdown concerning that dream, what I have become enlightened to is the power of the soul to act on its own when it needs to. In the poem, “When the Soul Cries,” I reveal how the soul will reign Supreme over our ego/flesh/mental blocks and will release itself (if denied all other passages of expression) on its own through tears.

  Tears……

  Thoughts emitted as raging solutions

  Time evacuated amongst radical secretions

In Ancient Egyptian Folklore it is said that the River Nile was formed by the tears of Isis when she found out Osiris had been killed by his brother, Seth. The story is almost haunting as I sit here in line for a systematic murder. I wonder how many bodies of water I have formulated with tears after witnessing texecution after texecution…..

  Frances Falls

  Shakur Streams

  Bey Bays

  Life moving in the form of liquid!

In the privacy of my own personal space I find my eyes gracing the eulogies of fallen comrades and the upliftment of their souls to Ancestors in poems. And from the tips of my toes to the ends of my eyelids I find life stirring in me like a generator pushing forth as a scream, but held silent then released in sacred sprinkles. They be libations of remembrance doused on marred revolutionary skin (cause you can recognize the lovers of freedom by their scars).

Tears accompany the spirit of music that now comes forth lively like fireworks exploding within me. Rhythm&Blues, song and verses act to add color to the stories we now live; our feet moving to the melodies of gospels, rebellious raps, death calls and life chants.

The worse prison would be a closed heart, but through our suffering the heart is stretched and enlarged.

We’ve endured many heartaches at the loss of friends and the hate of foes, but in this divine irony we find that the heart that breaks open can contain the whole universe.

When I’m at loss for words as my eyes well, I close them and breathe (deeply) trying to pull back into myself and swim in the wave of emotional river running through my soul. One often learns more from ten minutes of agony than from ten years of contentment.

With nobody to turn to but the walls – whom have always been my most polite audience – I speak the chambers of my temple. No fear as they never tell. And honestly, who would believe them anyway?!

In a place where hugs don’t exist, a tear falling down the face is almost a substitution for one’s wife’s finger gracing your skin, one’s child planting a kiss on you, one’s grandmother pinching your cheek. It’s love running free, cooling heated skin from evil breathing over your shoulder.

I have come to accept that allowing myself to experience the trail of tears is not a weakness, but a strength; not a curse, but a blessing. I also realize that it is not only utterly natural, but a much needed tool. It is a medicine found in the world of those that believe that suffering comes to us with purpose – it is trying to teach us something, not destroy us. We should look for its lesson(s).

I conclude this memoir saying – pain and suffering built up only leads to cancers of the mind, body and soul. So, when I enter this process, when my soul raises its flag of expression (be it tomorrow or years from now), I will continuously pay close attention. And it may serve as a comfort to know that in all our trials and tribulations, adversities and challenges, that he that lost anything and gets wisdom by it, is a gainer by the loss.

We stay on the DRIVE for Justice, Truth, Love, Peace, Freedom and Life!

(note: Frances is Frances Newton; Shakur is Hasan Shakur; Bey is Joseph Nichols-Bey)

D.R.I.V.E.

DEATH Row INNER-COMMUNALIST VANGUARD ENGAGEMENT