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It was 1968 we'd gathered again in the school auditorium my tiny hands sweating only five years old while my name was called in all of this cold  
civil rights riots plagued my little brown mind sirens and fog horns single file lines time after time my eyes wide shut the announcement over the radio was like being 

drafted to Vietnam sordid bliss morbidly hindered my crayons rolled beneath my mahogany desk my patent leather shoes turned inward a woman chants she's named after Martin Luther Kings daughter sedans pulled up two men wearing dark glasses gets out opens the doors this way sweetie rushing wind inside my head  

it's going to be fine the woman said my father arrives comfort with strive silence removed my soul grooved quickly taken to the breakfast club I was greeted with a red radio flyer trike a carton of chocolate milk coloring books pamphlets describing the program nutrition health screening school self defense who was I why I was civil rights

in the middle of Chicago 1968 why I was selected chosen from Jay Edgar Hoover list inside a daycare me this little brown girl would shake up the world by name writing poetry at such a very tender age turning every page seated back stage in the mist of an era my big brown eyes absorbing the history of the Black Panther

self defense party providing immunizations classes for youth while the list moved throughout a calamity of endeavors when special forces were called in to infiltrate the dreams of security many riots protests many death my father would carry me on his shoulders from 201 Asland Ave. through Altgeld 

Gardens meeting for change at such a young age I never really knew what this meant for my future  by march 1969 first grade I was seated at Abraham Lincolns Home singing Marian Andersons Hymns by December 4th 1969 Chairman Fred Hampton was Assassinated while sleeping shot 99 laying next

to his pregnant wife for bringing a community a nation together inside this colorful hub a small gathering at the breakfast club sealing my fate years later the FBI selected to wear wires pregnant to go in hostage situations investigating corruption meeting the FBI  on Ashland Ave Chicago I felt 

I was needed to saved lives the FBI  attached the wires resulting in my home being vandalized by my imposter Jay Townsend Johnson Henry attempting to impersonate me climbing in my window ripping pages of poetry searching for my children's passports immunization records she arrived with a gunman 

waving A weapon pointed at my children and I shooting into my home the sheer notion of being assassinated over my American poetry in America the Attorney generals office alerted me this person had broke in my home read parts of my journal and grew obsessed she then plotted my death in order to

impersonate my life in order to become me after my death my heart pounding racing like an African drum fearing my safety an yet I continued writing 
my stalker finally exposed committing a data breach including through the hospital systems USF sheer identity fraud with a criminal group aimed at 

retrieving my personal information targeting my journal my poetry my first grade field trip to Abraham Lincoln's home my wearing wires pregnant for the FBI dreadfulness aroused a state of emotional angst looking at family photo's I felt my face was being replaced with the imposter as if I was slowing being

aborted from my mother's womb I contacted the FBI  with a startling desperate plea could these be killers released early after the investigation could they have located me please hurry someone broke in my home reading my journal my diary ripping poetry from my night stand please come before
 
something tragic happens someone's trying to kill me everything happened so fast I'd taken my children to see Reggie white the football player and 
minister for autographs he signed my book by the time we arrived home a truck carrying a refrigerator a washer and a drying 

was parked at my doorway I thought it was odd for Sunday to my surprise hidden inside were 4 gunmen awaiting on my assassins to arrive I thought
they were special delta forces the professional way they moved quietly not harming anyone else keeping a crowd of children safe on that dreary day 

Jay Townsend Johnson Henry arrived with her gunman to end my life over my writings my journal my American poetry seated with a very dangerous violent arsonist Ciro Gargano after 30 years since 1984 the FBI warned me this man would kill my children and I this was 2003 I contacted the FBI  I needed.

answers face to face punishing me for working with the FBI by attempting to extort my American poetry after I summitted a few poems to support Montel Williams and persons suffering with MS. and MS.  survivors I was truly blessed the Governor Charlie Crist office of Attorney Generals victims compensation 

Houghton and Millflin and Great source remembering Jay Townsend Johnson Henry from Jamaica gets out of a white Tahoe in Tampa Bay heading for my townhome door pointing a 45 Glock straight at me and the children she was
pointing at my door standing with her Jamaican gunman yelling kill her kill 

the poet from Chicago he approached by Gods grace four gunman open fire like delta force saving my children and I from my stalker who ran I was frozen kneeling praying pleading for a violent free community I held my children tight
I felt like that little brown girl again at the breakfast program where I wrote

my very first poem the tender age of six today I continue to write everyday no matter what all for that little brown girl inside me forever riding that red radio flyer trike forever riding on my fathers shoulders running home before dark 
before curfew from leaving the meetings around Chicago during a shoot to kill 

law meaning any and everyone out after curfew rather coming from work church or school designed by Jay Edgar Hoover director of the FBI 
I'm forever that little brown girl I am Africa's Joy
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