When you're Strange

To:  You

Please don’t feel sorry for me.

I feel sorry for you, actually. But we all need someone to feel sorry for to make us feel better about ourselves.

But, like I said, don’t worry.  I’m with a friend, strumming, running, singing strong.

We got caught with a case of Jes Grew  along the way.

I know they claim it died, but its alive I swear.  It’s just hidden somewhere in that song you pretend to forget. Or in the night you remember too often.

The movement you try to ignore when you’re falling asleep at night while attempting to count sheep because you were told it helps. You can’t see it but you know it’s there. Outside in the pounding center of the city you were always too afraid to enter. The every fleeting glance you were too afraid to chase.

“Jes Grew has no end and no beginning.”

We’re trying to bring it to you, so maybe one day soon you can feel it too. Well not just you but everyone; all the people who find themselves alone at night, the people who God never gave a chance.

Sorry if it’s a while before I see you. We’re trying to meet them all along the way.

People pass, America attacks,

We are strong inside.

We have to be.

They have to be.

Don’t worry if I don’t write again.

We'll let the world know we're alive, somehow.

Sincerely,

me

PS:
Mumbo Jumbo by Ishmael Reed