Why was I chosen? I never knew why I was chosen. Chosen to carry the burdens of my people. Chosen to speak on behalf of my people. I love my people with everything that is within me. I feel their pain. I feel their burden. But can one man carry this burden alone? I hurt when I hear them called out of their name. I hurt when I hear them degraded. I hurt when I hear them crying. My soul ache and my mind wanders. I love watching father and my uncles make maple syrup. I love seeing the bees dance around the just tap sap. It makes me smile from the inside to the outside. And I realized how much nature is like us. Then I love seeing the maze grow taller than me over six feet and the trees that bring so much comfort. Everything has a purpose and everything has life. Everything is for a reason. And everything has a point of existence. I must have a purpose and I must have a existence.
I remember in school, the horses and how easy it was to learn to ride. I love to see the beautiful horses. And to work in the barn to feed them and to care for them. To make them unafraid and to be a good rider. All this comes together in my heart. All this comes to thought clearly. Everything I am meant to be is coming together. And I am realizing who I am. And as I grow from young man to man, I realized my people were architects. They were crafters and weavers and dancers. They were business people and merchants and inventors. They were doctors and caretakers and leaders. My people were something. And they will never be replaced. They will never be removed from the earth. They are as vital to this world as any other people. Though we may be lesser in number than thousand of years ago. We survived and we have purpose. We have yet to do much. We have yet to fight being wipe out. We are still strong and able. We are still sound and able. We are still capable and able.
And our culture is adaptable. We can teach the world things it never knew. We can teach the world things it can believe. For we know how to persevere in this change of time. We know how to persevere in this change of climate. We know how to be thankful for what we receive. We know how to be grateful to the things we are given. We love life and its beauty. We love beauty and its purity. We believe the mountains have purpose as much as the valleys. We believe the hills are important as the plains. My people are a wise people. My people are a good people. My people are original. And our words are still used today. Our food are still consumed today. Our knowledge is still used today.
I finally understand why my people chose me. They chose me because I represent the future. I represent the tomorrow. Each generation must carry the fire. Each generation must carry the urgency. Each generations must carry the hopes of the one before it. And if they do then they will create a better tomorrow. We can ignite the dreams of tomorrow. I am Little Feather. My mother and father wanted me to fly high, dream big, and see greatness. Fly high in the aspirations of my people. Dream big on the foundation that my people laid before me. And see greatness in preserving our traditions. And one day I will pass this on to my children, to the next generations and keep the flame and fire of my people for a thousands years more.
About the Creator
Matthew Primous
I am a Black Scholar, International Scholar, & Google Scholar, & 3-Time Eber & Wein Best Poet., Nominee for Poet of the Year, 2020 Black Author Matters Winner, 2 time Akademia Excellence Essayists,& 2022 Honorary Muckrack Journalist.
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The Princess of Her People
They think they own us. They think we are property. They think we are nobodies. I come to tell my people. We are free. We are something. We are able. We are mighty. For I am your princess, Yoli. As Yoli exclaimed at a classroom protest. She was the daughter of chiefs and princesses of Africa. She was tired of the oppression. She was fed up with the lies and maltreatment. She was hurt over the inhumanity. She would fight back tears as guns were pointed at her fellow classmates. She would fight back tears as she saw the struggle was real. Her home, her school, her job, and her country were at war with her people. And this was just the beginning, she would see more and more atrocities. Yet she refused to back down. She refused to give in. She refused to be afraid. She was a Queen in waiting and a verified Princess of her People.
By Matthew Primous6 months ago in Writers
OF MOTHERHOOD.
Dear mother-to-be, I wanted to let you know how very, very special I think you are. I don't think there can be any job that is more meaningful than the one you are about to begin, that of being a mom. You are the most important person in the world to your precious unborn baby, and you will be for many years.
By Catherine Nyomenda5 days ago in Writers
Edgar Allen Poe and Anne Rice would starve on Vocal
On occasion I like to write stories or poems bases on horror or inspired by shows like The Walking Dead or Man in the High Castle. Sometimes it is simply a good old fashion mob micro fiction story which by its nature contains a hit (murder), a kidnapping, or some type of bloody crime. I write mostly for my own fulfillment but I do enjoy posting them on sites like Vocal, Medium, All Poetry, and others. I do this both to get feedback and sometimes, I make someone's day. I a word full of digital and often fake content, I find reading unique pieces and writing a few of them myself. It is therapy.
By G. A. Botero6 days ago in Writers
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