there is rawness and an infantile quality to love among we children of africa in america. as if it’s a love not yet matured. as if we are unable to express our affection for one another with the purity required to reach, within our feelings for one another, the absolution true love brings. as if our puppy love is a lifelong endeavor. we use and are used. we fuck and are fucked. but so rarely do we give, freely and without recompense. rarely do we transcend the corporeal. always on the lookout for the better deal, we are consumed by our realities, and so cannot indulge fully our spirituality. true love is completely spiritual, total testament to the altar of what we can be when removed from material existence. has whitey so ripped from us our potential?
we have lost our spirituality. we have had stolen from us our inner children and our outer adults. we love and worship selfishly and without faith. tell me I am wrong. I pray that I am wrong. and yet…