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(The Little Book)

Part (3): The Watchman’s Call (a message to the children of slaves) and all of
America.

Sitting by the living waters, the morning star sent its brilliant light glancing across the

jagged waves. A new-borne day, so full of life! Yet just behind me; and all around me a

great number of my people are walking in darkness. Caught in a net of mass confusion-

stricken by poverty-ridden by hopelessness. And some conquered by a pale demon called

narcotics.

Babies, borne alive, yet dead. Mothers with no right to bear life in their poisoned wombs.

Fathers who have forsaken their right to be called men. Little children bare- footed and

hungry, walking the streets. Yeah, some people are being swept away, like rats in a raging

flood. Death, conquering their minds, hearts and souls. Lifeless Blood of a lost race, no

hope, no home, no eternal place.

Shall this be now after all we have been through? After three hundred years or more of

slavery, when we were treated no less than farm animals? What about the years of Old

Jim Crow, when we were denied the same equality as those who breath the same air as

we do? Even more so, what of the struggle for self-esteem and personal individual

endeavors?

How can you be reached my brothers and sisters? How, Please! Someone tell me how to

stop you from destroying yourselves.

There has been too much blood spilled in the past. There is too much being spilled now.

Only thing is, the blood that was spilled in the past; was for you, but the blood that is being

spilled now, is by you.

From the rawhide whips and shackles, to the Jim Crow era, to the Civil Rights Movement.

Good blood, pure blood, God’s (Elohim’s) chosen ones have paid a bloody price for you.

Don’t look and say, all this was in the past. For truly I tell you, this little book could not be

written, had it not been for the struggles of the past. Surely, if for whatever reasons we