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Spring In The Inner-City
(death yields its power to new life)
Yellow Spears of forsythia in back of a
chain link fence.
Peeling paint;rotten boards, broken
windows;slum lords. Burned
out houses where new kittens
stalk mice and rats.
Old Victorians restored to former beauty,
Bright horns of jonquils amid scattered
scraps of paper,
Drug dealers on the corner,
Purple crocuses picked by and unwatched
boy,
Rap, Salsa, Reggae, Gospel Music all
vying for our attention
Sweet songs of sparrows,
Sirens, alarms, children on bicyles,
Desperate people in line for a meal at a
soup kitchen; prostitutes, drug
addicts, working poor, welfare
families, children, children,
children.
Fluffs of dandelions in cracks of cement,
Kids asking for bread.
Mothers searching for 'new' clothes and
shoes among the donations.
Scent of budding trees,
The odor of unwashed flesh,
Man's greed, Satan's destruction, God's
mercy and grace.
Sunshine and gentle breezes,
Gangs, violence, guns and drugs.
Needles, pipes, capsules lying in
the streets,
Brutality;
A helping hand.
Street corner preachers, storefront
congregations, small churches
and rescue missions, offer hope
through Jesus Christ,
Peddleres of fruit, fish, carpets and junk,
English, Spanish, Creole, Mung;
Chinese, African, and Arabic
languages,
Life and Death, Despair and Hope, Greed
and Sacrifice.
The inner-city in Spring
By Ginnie Lunt
[Posted with permission from author]
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