I feel weak in your shadow and the shadows of those who came before me. I could try harder.
Who and what am I? The accomplishments of those who paved a path?
I’ll ask one thousand times.
I wish that I was more. I wish that I was an inspiration to others. And to those yet to come.
But do I even try? Am I even worthy?
We once struggled. We once felt the sting of stripes upon our backs and dust in our lungs. Lungs weak from negro hymns -- lungs callused with spiritual burden.
But tonight I sleep at ease in a warm bed with no plans for tomorrow. This is my burden.