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[Brer Rabbit] 2012. That's damn good vision He spat, his gums calloused by neglect Grinned and crisped into a red delicious Its skin zesty, the air was sweetness His skin was stretched and ancient Cracked and seemed like a patch of pavement Much too often and just as dark in pigment He was my grandfather The dwindling town knew him as Moses His dwindling comrades call him Moe I don't know if it was his age Or the way he caused folks to move away The air was damp but not suffocating The stoop was ramshackle and yet sturdy Treacherous, like the conversation But still able to bear gravity's ambush He was silent as he let the four numbers Ricochet against permutations Of broken dreams and personal triumphs He spat out half of an apple seed "Look at us, we're one foot removed From working this very land without choice One foot removed from the Promised Land And did you know that Moses never made it to Canaan?" His question was piercing, his eyes were bloodshot Recalling more life than I could fathom I tried not recoil under his vulnerability And gave my response as I bit into the apple "The Hebrews themselves did not enter the Promised Land Until long after they arrived They had to fight, and wander and wait Before they were able to open their eyes We are still fighting and wandering and waiting We have fled enslavement and parted waters We have seen the horizons promised But we have not yet fully arrived God had told Moses that it was his destiny But Moses never believed that promise But if we apply better the perfect vision We will find the Promised Land among us" I spat out an uncracked apple seed It landed in the soil beside the broken one My Grandfather smiled at me and said "If we keep this up we'll have a whole damn orchard" If prophecies are self-fulfilling Interpreting scriptures predicts the future And sharing better the perfect vision Is building up a new world

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