Chosen

 And at the end of the day , what divides up perhaps the most is our series of choices. Life is but a series of choices.


What made him choose to pick up that gun? 


What made me choose to stay home on that same day? 


If I hadn’t or he hadn’t we wouldn’t be here.


And I was a lucky one. I was one who heard it from the comfort of my own and not able to say my loved ones not coming home. 


I only heard it like rapid fire. And I wasn’t clear if it was a firecracker, random popping..or something else before I realized - no. It’s none of those. Despite being sheltered and not quite being atune to the sound of a gun going off (thank god) and or the sound of a gun going orf ‘16 times’ (god is good). It was clearly gunfire. I knew that much. 


It was also choices that made me able to be on the outside of the yellow tape, and not in. And some weren’t here. Some stayed back. In the foot of their homes. Which is where I started. Some turned back. Physically making a y turn probably the swiftest they ever have. But then there was us. The chosen ones who live and work right outside. Where do we go when it happens in our own ‘front yard’. When did I make a choice that made me able to say all these words. 


Or write them, on a technicality. 


Choices. 


The ones that divide myself and the men wearing their blue shirts and vests. This is about the only time I stand behind them, literally and figuratively. 


Because while the red blue and white represent pain and suffering they also signal to us that something isn’t as it should be. 


All these cops standing around and the world isn’t as it should be. 


The helicopter over head is but yet a sky’s view of a series of choices. One that also makes it hard to hear myself think.



But also all the people asking each other if we know what happened. I could bet about all of us will walk away with a different version of the story. 



As if to prove life is ironic, the garbage can opposite corner of me says ‘keep Philly clean’ and for what suggestion would we make that it’s only trash? 



Ok, just heard this is the 2nd shooting this month and 3 people got shot.


City of brotherly love my qss. 


We need new forms of gratitude my niggas.



I would say I wish my dad’s flight had been tomorrow for a lot of reasons including I wish I could cuddle up next to him for protection and consoling but I know he’s always in my heart (that’s what he’d remind me) but more than that I’m glad he’s not here. I’m glad he’s safe. I’m grateful for these choices. 


I tried to look online and nothings updated. It’s crazy to be in the mix enough to know before the city knows. It’s so scary. 


That’s an exclusive I don’t need. This is a conversation I hate to live. And I’m blessed enough to not even in LIVING IN IT yet I really am living in it. 



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