Cannot Bloom In Edens Garden

CRT calculating - I saw this from the beginning as one of my husband’s kin-in-laws began to ask questions or inquire as wanting to pick, or was it peck, at my brain. Her telling facebook page told of her true intent to harm, sad but true. Wisdom pays attention, loves but does not let in ill-intent. Charts, charting the way. A flow of dripping ink akin to a slow leak of pungent hate. Might we circle back, no more talking behind one’s back. Instead a genuine smile, a tear in the eye, no more do or die. And then infinity arms stretching about in a familial way, ears inclined, sweet laughter, convivial conversation. A blend of colors, as in a patchwork quilt, gently sewn, a tight weave that cannot be broken, not a lackluster theory that cannot bloom in Eden’s garden. The fruity juices froth at the mouth, side glances look for fault. Have you observed a playground where children of all races, creeds, and colors simply laugh, chase, bond? Scents of magnolia and honeysuckle, innocent of foolish thought, corrected for only what childhood itself teaches. In the game of Mother May I, CRT calls for backward steps. Why place children in the muck? A joy could be had from reciting MLK’s speech. Let his words ring in the ears of all who will hear and let us stop stabbing our kids with ink that breeds contempt. 7/2/2021