POEM #4

by Catrice Greer 

When I was little, we used to run, jump, play

roll that go cart down the street and let it flyyyyy

down the alley way. the wind passing us, and our happy yelling

wore down mrs. johnson’s nerves and frayed her apron worrying about us

making alla’ that noise. The Arabber cart bumbling down the street.

horseshoes a clip-clopping, him singing 'bout fruit,

watermelon! Oranges! Cantaloupe.

Us, locked-armed rolling down the street, 'talmbout,

—we a little crew. Seemed-like time would go on forever…

every time i see these boys, now, they men —I see 'em growing up all those years.

I never thought I’d get to this age. Old. Older. Elder.

I see my sons, my friends’ sons, our grandchildren. Damn! Our grandchildren!

We giitin’ old!

I remember when they got to run and play.

Time ate that up,

drugs dragged the life out of our neighborhoods like a dark gray fog

poverty a menace and calling home too many too soon. Still, we are here

Our futures, our dreams — I can almost touch it! So we keep going, strong

to take what is ours. Our joy, our laugher, our neighborhoods,

our boyhood, our brotherhood,

Our manhood.

So when I see our boys, imma walk with em,’talk with em

mold em. They neva gonna be too old for me to hold em, stand wit 'em.

Them boys gonna always know I got their back.

Their futures, their freedom is worth fighting for

and this,

This is on law