Under the Bridge in Harlem
Jul 18th, 2009 | By Tari Marshall-Day | Category: Poetry | 426 viewsUnder the bridge my favorite…
Colors, green, blue, orange
But it was Harlem
And it was someone’s home
For a season
Listening to the blues
It was raining, old buildings
Symmetry in walls
Small church, bright red door
White line on the road
Out of the Bronx
Listening to the blues
An accident, side of the lane
How many ancestors
Crossing these walkways
As I wonder…
Why I noticed those colors?
Are they still around?
The blues play on
Eye contact for just
A glimpse of those people
I will never see again
A second of kinship
As someone crosses the
Path to the small
Neighborhood store
Bright yellow awning
Foreign words
I head north
But I hold clear in my mind
Someone’s home under that bridge in Harlem.
I look for my home in this land -
From coast to coast,
High mountains, waterfalls
I fly over canyons
I head north
The blues play those songs
Of the America I chose
Cab driver heads south
Flash of rainbow
Balloons in a passing car
Texas license plate
I smile at the driver
Train on the overpass
I head north as I wonder…
Who lives on those
Colors under the bridge…
In Harlem.
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About Tari Marshall-Day: Tari lives and writes in the United States after passing though 54 countries to get there! |
©2009 Tari Marshall-Day All Rights Reserved
