American Favelas (poem/book#1)
Bloom
American Favelas
Shakespeare had no
idea
That his collection of plays
Would one day lose
To the drama easily found
In modern day news.
You can find
Aisha, Jacob
Or even Carla
Who speak boldly
In this hood,
Just like Malala.
TV, I beg you please see,
See more than those in the ghetto
Shooting ball or shooting guns.
Geneva Ave.
A mother’s daydream,
A Mother’s Day dream
Lost by a stray bullet –
Heat wave, no jobs, summer crime,
Preachers pleading, “Hey, cool it”.
Opposing faiths,
Modern day hate-scars
Served on tectonic plates –
Jewish, Muslim, Christian
Why not human?
In a time where
existence
Is riddled with pride,
Instead of molding to our world’s divide,
Let unconditional self-love and world
peace
Collide.
Feel the human experience.
Love to young
single mothers
Graduating from the projects
And hearing no applause.
Love to young mommas raising young Alvin Aileys.
Broken lives restored.
Broken glass windows
Shining hope daily.
A multitude of
beautiful young minds
Shooting for the stars.
There is good in the hood,
Regardless of what they tell us.
Resilient, beautiful young minds sprouting
In our American favelas.
Thoughts
of the week: How does this piece make you feel? Kindly share in writing. You
are a poet becoming. Let your unconditional self-love and world peace collide.
We are one big family.
Have you ever read: Black?
Have you ever read: Black?
Comments
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You did it! Your self-authorized voice is both mighty and lovely. Thank you for being you. Thank you for your existence. Thank you for your leadership.
With Admiration,
fern the poet