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By John Poitier Jr. When ´ise younger, my aunty put Beans on da´ rice,  Sniffles shuffling through the morning air,  Peeling back the...

John Poitier Jr. I stamp my foot into the earth, And they rise in a  Little mushroom cloud, Then settles on my shoe in  Little decisions...

By Trinity Williams What happens to God’s people when they’ve been forced here to plow? Are the wrinkles in their brows a reflection of...