I am from a place where hope is whispered
It comes through like a breeze in a deadzone
Reminding us of life elsewhere
A reminder that a chunk of land worthy enough to carry a name records our footsteps
A middle ground
Somewhere in between better or worse of.
I am from leaves decorating pavements over our forgotten narratives.
I am surrounded by brick walls,
The cages we paint bright and alluring
With promises and crushed dreams.
I am from what beautiful would be like if given the chance.
I am from a place where history is blinded by life unfolding in rapid bursts,
A place of days smacked across faces held to the sky in prayer
Of life as insignificant as a flame flickering on a candle
A balance between spark and the extinguish of conscience.
I am from the confusion of people marching over one another in circles
Returning to where they started as destination
From fast paced, city squabbles and chaotic noise.
I am from the constant call of death mistaken for a chance to rest.
I am from a place where laughter is shackled to the ground it falls to
Where the sky is a limit
That only draws closer when it rains.
I am from the collection of blessings disappearing into drainpipes in search of our tears.
Where sins are washed clean only after we have paid them in blood.
A place where children watch the meaning of playing on hypnotic screens,
Where safety in only in their mother’s prayers
A place where survival is a magic trick
Where an audience disappears when it is needed most.
I am from a place where hope is screamed
Is muffled by beating hearts aching to believe it.
It comes in like a breeze in a deadzone
Reminding us that it is to dust we shall return.
A reminder that the chunk of land worthy of a name
Reclaims us every time the wind blows.
A middle ground in between other cities
A city swallowing us.