HARLEM,
REVISITED

She,
gently cradled
the essence of us.
When we were
ill defined.
She,
courageously made
a home for us
when no where else
would try.
She,
patiently nurtured
our awareness,
and raised us up
with pride.
Yet, fewer
of us remain
who know
the way her soul
once strutted
down sepia streets.
Less still
to cherish
the reasons why
we called her
Mother-dear.
Who will
remember
all that was sacrificed.
We are dying
She is dying
and our legacy
is fading away.
Brother, what have
we done
with where we've come from,
If there's
nothing
left to
take from her,
Is there nothing
more to give?
Brother, what have
we done
with where we've come from,
She cries my man,
she cries...