Dear the Street of dreams

Forever Lonley | Forever Frozen |

Forever Lonley | Forever Frozen |

This is a compilation of poems that bring my thoughts and experiences to life throughout this project about 24th Street.

Ode to Black Violence

Dear Black Boy,

Stop killing the boy who looks like you.

He may not have the same eyes, nose, and mouth as you, but your skin is the same, so he is you.

That bandanna and Block don’t change your history. Your souls are aligned like they have chemistry.

So don't kill the little boy with the same skin as you; differences aside, deep down, he is you.

If you keep killing your reflection, they will join in celebration because this is what they bank on.

They want our whole community to commit suicide so they won’t have to label it as genocide.

But they won’t have to label it anything if you keep killing the boy who looks like you,

the boy that is you.

Everlasting Flame

Even as the fire has settled and the smoke has turned to ash

My trauma still burns the biggest flame ever known to man

They tell me to tame it

Tell me to cover it

Force my hand to extinguish it

what they don’t understand is that I don’t know how to smother it

Instead of fighting, I just let it take the wheel, and it peels off so fast I smell burning as the rubber squeals

It takes laps around my brain, and at night, it makes me numb like my body is floating on another plane

I realize all this weight is not mine

But I am the simple truth of time

the truth that time does not heal all wounds,

as my grannies deepest fears wrap me in a cacoon

Just because you can no longer feel the heat does not mean the rubble does not suffocate me and my lungs are begging for room to breathe

The fire burns long after you hose us down and deem us clean because the trauma has now etched its way into my bloodstream

To a Lost Dream

Dear The Street of Dreams,

You may not know me, but I am well acquainted with you. I feel the vibration of your presence when I walk. I let your energy fuel me when I talk….

You were a dream of harmony now poisoned to be a nightmare full of tragedy. You have become the home of sad memories and collection plate for bodies. You have grown from drug dealer to drug lord polluting our community. You have become a monument of vacancy warding off trespassing.

I wish I could go back and hear the trumpets as community leaders sing and lift every voice. I wish I could be present for the movement instead of documenting your void.

Oh, street of dreams, you are not my story to tell. Oh, street of dreams you are not mine to carry but I will until I have chipped off enough of you and planted the seeds in others so you do not feel so heavy.

I won’t let them forget you; I won’t let them uproot you. I am just a girl you don’t know but this is the vow I have made to you.

love,

your out-loud admirer