young brother, through the tears that you cry,
of the beauty and wisdom, that our lifestyles deny;
Of potential wasted, while still on the bud,
of Blackness to vapor, in puddles of blood.
Think
of Black mothers, as new life unfolds,
of the wondrous could be,
of the wonder that they hold.
Think
of dignity,
A life of substance,
A life of greatness,
A life of class;
of fulfillment within black wombs,
of prayers whispered in our past.
Think
of slaves beaming down,
As their dreams come bursting forth;
Think
of souls yet unborn, who’ll
cherish Blackness as self-worth.
Think
of indignities toward your parents,
and the hardships in their lives;
Think
of the dream Martin had,
with such passion
he gave his life.
So let us
Think
while we mourn,
love ones
who aren’t here,
Let us
Think,
For only thought,
will bring freedom
from this walking nightmare.
Eric L. Wattree
(PeeWee)
We had a great time that last day, didn't we?
I still agonize over the way it ended.
Rest in peace.
Man, I love every day I'm given here on Earth, but I've got to tell ya, brother, gettin' old is a bitch--I don't think you'd be into it at all. The women have started callin' me sir, and they just walk right by without a second glance. I'm daddy all over again, man--I'm even gettin' grey hair!
I'm sure you know I'm still playin' my horn, but things got so slow after you left, I also took up writing. That started when I began listening to the shade-tree intellectuals behind the liquor store. You know, they weren't as crazy as we thought they were. They opened up a whole new world for me. More on that later.
By the way, remember that woman you use to run from all the time--the one that bought you that Firebird. I guess she couldn't live without you. She died shortly after you did. Anyway, she bought a plot right next to yours. Look to your left. Ain't no sense in tryin' to run, you can't go nowhere.
And one more thing. Do me a favor, man. If your spirit really can come back to Earth, go scare the hell out of Ms. Cleo. I'm tired of that sister runnin' around, with that phony ass accent, talkin' about she can read the future. She's as crazy as old Gigglin' Willie--by the way, is he still gigglin'? You don't have to answer that, 'cause you'll scare the hell out of me.
I'll talk to you some more tonight, as long as you stick to our deal. Just listen, because if you ever say anything back--family or no family--it's over.
Eric