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Restorative Dreams

October 13, 2015

Sleep had escaped the children, because they were constantly bombarded by  flashing lights and reverberating noises that permeated their neighborhood. Big rig trucks rumbled at night and they awaken to polluted air punctuated by putrid rubbish. They suffered from a lack of morning hugs, each day just another sunrise with sugary treats to eat.

BART train wheels shriek in cadence with bus picking up poor souls crippled by youthful pregnancies. Babies with babies vying for the American dream with immigrants. Collectively, these minimum wage workers daily serve millions of burgers and fries to customers with ever expanding waste lines on death’s crusade.

“Good morning class,” said the petite white teacher to her pre-kindergarteners, a sea of  mostly brown faces with sprinklings of blacks and yellows on the side. Rainbow table patterns blended cultures; however, anger preoccupied the sleep deprived children and their emotional eruptions too often stole others’ educational opportunity, until they nodded off. Saturated with glucose, their poor little heads plopped on table tops, while their ears rung with rappers’ lyrics. Unfortunately, for many fifty-year old great-grandmothers, the Lord has claimed way too many young souls ─ block by block.

Now I lay me down to sleep,
I pray the Lord my soul to keep.
If I should die before I wake,
I pray the Lord my soul to take.

Generational decay plagues our urban centers with bullets killing absent fathers guilty of abandoning our collective future. It’s time for a change. Children need to witness fathers talking lovingly and respectfully to mothers. Yes it’s time for a change. Children need to hear parents’ voices  reading bedtime stories. Then maybe restorative dreams will enter their little hearts.

Another sunrise, this time more families are eating balance breakfasts together. Maybe today no head-plops.

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