My Uncle

When I was a Little girl,
he was known as the one who was always there.
And he was always there.
When no one else was,
he was.
He cooked, he cleaned, and performed most
parent duties as I know them
& I Loved Him.
As a teen,
I noticed a different side to my Uncle
They say the penitentiary will change a person but
Damn,
why did it have to change him?
I looked to him as being
my provider, my happiness and,
my Uncle
He went from being one of the best persons in this world
to becoming,
one of the worst.
A crack-addict, no more a lover
An alcoholic, no more a teacher
He forgot about his joy in family, books, education
and to my surprise,
Black empowerment
For he would always speak about, at every given chance he got.
Worst of all,
He forgot about me.
He would always tell me, I'm not like most members of our family.
& I
wish I could say the same about him,
Again.
I hope he's doing well,
in Hell.

By Erica Bush