The City: Poetry

Here in the city:

The beggar telling me to read
Romans 11: 25-26;
studying the way the woman's
4 inch heels click;
the thin waif on the train
with razor edged hair;
the man who stood
with a broken leg
Yet no one offered their chair

This jumble, bumble of people
This loud echo of millions of shoes
The tips of buildings scraping sky
as if they've something to prove

No, it is too much now
Too hollow, too empty
it makes me wish for things in
the South that I'd forgotten

the feeling of walking amongst
trees at 2am
the safety of leaving your door unlocked
without bolts and chains and bars

How I could get a biology book
and study things right in my backyard,
catch caterpillars on the pecan trees
and raise them in my room

The way I could go anywhere on
any night and never fear for my safety
because all that existed was the land
surrounding us
and I could hear it singing

so much that I began to write
just to describe it
then I began to write about
my feelings
and then I found myself eventually

I can't find myself here
disoriented, unanchored
and I miss the land

I miss the land

and the openness

and maybe, just maybe
I just wanted them to know it too

out there...

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