That’s All I Got by Rob Dyer

my next oldest Brother was riding his bike in the French Quarter, Aug.22, 1992…three fellas from D.C. were visiting for the Third World Rasta Festival…they almost knocked him off his bike when opening the door to the van they were in…my Brother, hated that they did that to him and told them so…they hated that he told them so, so they chased him for ten minutes, for ten blocks, for tens of reasons no one will ever know, they ran him over, twice, he hated that and two years later he died, from hate, from hatred, from hating and I so wanted to hate the men who he hated and had hated him and on the day he died, my next two older Brothers and I were standing outside as the hearse left with his hateless body and we were hating and my Mother saw this and without hearing a hateful word we had said, she simply interjected all she knew about hate, about Love and about Life…she said, “no one gets away with anything” and not right then and I cannot say when, but one day I realized that I had no need for hate, that my time of Life was far too precious to allow another to deprive me, by my hating them…and that is all I have to say about hate

Rob Dyer
An author and friend told me I was good at telling stories and should write some of them. That was sixteen years ago and I have never finished a single story. Instead, my voice came forward in pieces…pieces of life…mine, yours, his, hers and the unimaginable that happens every day. All I ask of the words, is movement. I have found acceptance in several generous spaces like Mad Swirl, Deuce Coupe, Epic Rites Press, Guerilla Pamphlet and others. ~ I’m so wrong, I write Rob Dyer

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