187
187 ain’t just a number it’s the hush before harvest, the echo of prayers answered in gold and grit.
Your roots been working. What you planted in silence is rising. Spirit’s clearing the path for your hands to hold what’s yours.
I walk in the blessings my ancestors prayed for. What I built in spirit now shows in the flesh.
Let the wind speak , justice moves like a storm.
Tornado don’t tear, it clears.
When the sky spins, truth rises.
Grieve not the whirlwind it knows who it came for.
Uprooted ain’t ruined it’s revealed.