The River of Change
PASTTIME I JUMPED IN THE RIVER,
THE RIVER OF CHANGE.
THINGS FLOAT BY —
BOARDED-UP NEIGHBORHOODS
A FAILED SCHOOL
AN OVERFLOWING HOSPITAL.
I GRAB ONTO SOMETHING
TO CHOOSE IS EVERYTHING.
WHAT I GRAB CHANGES ME.
I TRY TO CHANGE IT.
IT COULD BE ONE OF THOSE HURRICANES
OUT OF THE GULF.
A CARAVAN OF BLACK FAMILIES
HEADING NORTH SEEKING SHELTER
THEY INVITE ME IN
NICE CARS, PLENTY OF GAS
BUT THEY ARE LOST IN AMERICA,
LOST TO AMERICA
THEIR LIVES SO DIFFERENT FROM MINE.
THEY WASH ME.
RACE AND CLASS
WEALTH AND ORIENTATION
ALL WASHED AWAY
I LISTEN THEY LEAD I FOLLOW
OTHERS FLOAT BY —
PEOPLE IN PRISON,
PEOPLE DENIED A FUTURE,
PEOPLE IN PAIN, IN POVERTY, IN BREAKDOWN, IN TERROR.
AGAIN I GRAB HOLD
AND AGAIN AND AGAIN
UNTIL I AM TOO FAR
FROM MY BEGINNINGS
TO REMEMBER MY FEAR.
THE RIVER OF CHANGE.
THOUSANDS ON THE BANKS
WADING IN
CARRIED TO A NEW AMERICA
FROTHY WITH CHANGE.
