deepundergroundpoetry.com

The neighborhood

Sometimes I miss living in the neighborhood
Concrete court yard, metal bars.

I met warriors there not warring against each other but against poverty
At first I couldn't see the beauty there it was invisible to me.

I was used to being spoiled I was angry to be there I hadn't yet gotten the rhythm of the place saw its grace.

Me straight from the mental�hospital my daughter took me in.

I was so depressed at first but with determination the soldiers rallied they accepted me.

Always someone to talk to and if you didn't have something a neighbor would always come forward and say I do.

The days the hardest so hot it was this summer all of us too poor to run the air conditioner.

Squeals of delight could be heard as adults and children alike danced under cascading waters.

Nighttime was my favorite part everyone outside congregating
Playing beer pong,cards and dominoes.

The children jumping rope to the steady thump of someone's stereo�my daughter�calling to me saying,"bump it ma."

Sitting on our porch talking till the morning too poor for cable we entertained each other.

If ever a problem broke out it was handled in the complex
Everyone being a family it would be talked out among the crew.

I don't have a romantic idea of being poor
I just see soldiers winning the war.[/font]