City Streets
Hollow men
I walk these carefully sought after streets that are maintained by our state, these streets that are our infrastructure’s source of pride hide a sorrowful secret, a shame no one wishes to talk about. On every corner you will see a blind mother with baby on her lap, a brother singing the blues, a song that tells his tall sad tale, a man who was once the talk of the town begging for scraps and green paper. These city streets have blasphemed these people to eternal shame on earth. Fancy cars drive by, but behind the windshield lies a face marked by sorrow, pain, conflict, pessimism, hate and even death. These conflicting city streets hold no remorse at night, long hands stretching out and terrifying old women and children, gunshots, screams and struggles paint a sordid picture for those behind locked doors. These streets aligning big beautiful buildings that have no jobs for my sister, aunt or brother. The promised land, land of milk and honey, a place where crushed dreams pave the way for others to succeed, where hollow men dwell with faces blank and marked by death. City streets where our mothers are raped, children abducted, men mugged and murdered. These streets that are tainted with blood and schemes of young boys who want to take short-cuts in life. They say we need streets to grow, but what we need is to open our eyes to the reality and emancipate ourselves to the. hallucination of the world being the only reliant place– this sphere where time holds no bound or measure but is not infinite. I walk these streets, and I can only see what lies in the shadows and I whisper a little prayer: God save our souls.
(2015)
