When the Sun Meets the Moon

By Qadir Shabazz for Boston Compass

February 19, 2021


The seed of a flower, the beginning, the start of ​something—cannot be changed. The roots that sprout from the seed can only begin to grow bigger, stronger while it begins to transform through its lively stages. The path of this transformation does not narrow—it widens. If I plant two different types of seeds next to each other in the same garden, they both will serve the purpose of sprouting, of growing bigger and stronger, and allowing themselves to transform through their lively stages. It’s fascinating how nature continues to mirror the current stages of humanity, not even the ​current stages but overall the symmetry of seed to final. When there is love between two humans, we intertwine like brownish-green rainforest vines. Wrapped like the two fingers, the significance of peace. This kind of magnetic frequency is real when I allow it to exist naturally. Although, when I walk over to the circle of hatred some flowers keep their saturated colors and some fade away to death. What purpose is there to serve when I’m around this kind of vibration? It only allows me to realize that there’s a problem that hasn’t been resolved yet and, in fact, this problem is emotional—it’s mental.

It doesn’t serve me at all to dwell in the negative frequencies of the fourth-dimensional world, not here, not anywhere. I can’t change where I came from, in these boroughs of beauty or as the white supremacist would like to label it “the minority region,” stand products created from circumstances. Lord knows we’ve waited for him, the creator of all seeds. Lord knows we’ve called and cried when the sun is out—and the same thing while the moon hangs above our crooked rooftops. I’ve recognized the variations that exist within the range of flowers, the negro catalog. Some filled with love, some filled with hate and I simply understand all of their reasonings because I too have been there, I know what it’s like to feel that way. As a young little boy, I lived in the shelter on Mass Avenue with my single mother and we lived through the pain of what it meant to be Black and down. I understand them for their hate; I understand them for the love they choose to produce and build movements and organizations out of. That is the kind of seed one intends to plant in this world’s lovely garden. If you’re testing my love, my peace, there is no way of knowing when and how, but God knows what sort of ancestors he is willing to implement within his children to respond back. One bad flower will not intertwine with one good flower; it just doesn’t work that way.

Day and night, that is 24 hours of my life. I see the sun, and I see the moon—both actively existing in the utmost amazing, natural ways that I know of. I wonder how they feel about us down here.

—Qadir Shabazz @qadir__shabazz


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