Chants of our ancestor’s guidance, directions, trials, tribulations, admonishment, as cries for freedom, justice and equality fill the air upon which we depend upon for our very own survival. Tastes of the libations of centuries secrete the very liquid that we contain in our mouths and we wonder why hate, injustice and hatred are the very things that have become to be part of our recommended daily allowance just to live on this plane. The winds of change carry the prayers, supplications and spiritual incantations of yesterday and place them within the cumulous clouds of tomorrow’s precipitation of blessings and love that will shower down upon the minds and hearts of those of us who are receptive.
The light of our ancestors shine brightly amongst the Sankofa inspired beings that overstand yesterday had to be for today to be made manifest. Whispers of tribal chants envelope every corner of our Diaspora, only the language is often filled with pain, misery and suffering. Buffering the anguish with substances that have none; chemically manufactured death disguised in the so-called times we call good. Our souls have become like the ghettoes filled with despair and noise. Voices of ancestor’s and elders drowned out by the cacophony of dissonance, the loud pounding beat of self hatred that unfortunately has us dancing to a common beat that advocates no unity.
As the voices of our ancestor’s and elders dissipate, the never ceasing sounds of frustration, anger and helplessness emanate from the bowels of the disenfranchised, and the impoverished. Screams in octaves to high for an animal to hear but low enough for us to revert to our most primal stages. Can you still hear it? Is it too late to look back only to have to still move forward? Can you hear it?
If we could still hear them then we would know that they endured and it is within us to not only endure but to strive. Within those voices contain the very antidote, the remedy for any and every situation imaginable. Only thing is, ADHD has gripped our mentality and we’re too distracted, too confused to pay attention and listen to faint whispers of love that permeate every space we exist in. It is in the stillness, those moments where we are in tune with ourselves and everything around us that we can actually hear those voices. Too bad it seems that they don’t seem to matter any more. Can You Still Hear It?
Skillz Conscious Elements Publishing © 2013