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D. M'Chelle

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Sparkle In The Concrete
by D. M'Chelle

Wednesday, February 24, 2010
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Recent poems by D. M'Chelle
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Sparkle in the Concrete is a socially conscious piece that address what most keep a blind eye to. Peek in and take a look, it'll grab your mind and hold on tight for awhile.

 

SPARKLE IN THE CONCRETE
 
Our Children addicted to crack cocaine because of the use, abuse, and neglect they sustain
each time that we turn our backs on their pain.
Our government spends billions in one day on the war in Iraq
while we struggle to survive the economic impact.
 
What happened to the war on drugs?
 
I see a pretty hazel eyed black queen all of 23
squatting in the corner of a downtown corridor
once innocent to the streets
but as people, like time, pass her by
her faith slowly dies and she starts sellin’ herself short for another hit from the pipe because that’s what helps her get away from the pain.
 
I look at her face only to see my reflection staring back at me. 
Tears pool in my eyes as she begs for change to feed her habit. 
And I realize, that it’s only a matter of time before one of our own young brothers seizes the opportunity to make a profit off of her addiction. 
 
When I look into her eyes I see the confusion of not knowing how to make it on her own,
The pain of feeling alone
with no one to help her make it through,
 If only she knew what to do. 
But maybe God’s left that up to me.
 
See no ones been willing to roll up there sleeves and get down on their knees
so I do
 and I pray for yet another child unable to cope
whose caught up on dope
because our schools have their rules of “No Child Left Behind”
and our kids are graduating uneducated and unprepared to face the reality of what it takes to thrive in this world. 
They’re not hip to the political street game;
not versed in “corporate-ese”,
the language of capitalization and greed. 
 
Yet she’s such a beautiful girl…
so I roll up my sleeves,
and I pray God please,
as I get down on my knees to embrace this child…
to try to bring her some kind of comfort, some solace for her soul.
You see, what we use to know is that it takes a village to raise a child,
and a community to develop our children
while their fathers are at war in Iraq
or in the streets strung out on crack
Or incarcerated for just bein’ black…
 
Yes I said incarcerated for just bein’ black.
 
I see the root of this dis-ease as I look back at our history
and with pain and disappointment I recognize the pattern and it’s repeating itself.
But this time there is no one else to blame,
no master holding us in chains or forcing us from our families,
this time it’s a social disease,
called complacency, ambitions, and the American dream. 
See she’s out on the street
because we’ve been hypnotized to believe the lies.
And while she’s caught up on dope were caught up in hopes
of that brand new car and the Cuban cigar…
and the light just turned green so…
“Sorry but I better go before the car behind starts honkin at me.”
“Father help her”, we pray
as we drive away,
and hope someone else comes along to provide the grace we passed by.
 
At night when I lay down to sleep I see her face down on the street lying in vomit and shame
barely knowing her name. 
High on crack, when she should be high on life. 
Wishing she were dead instead of being thankful for another day…
because we keep turning away.
And each time that we pass her by
I hear her question the Creator “why?”
as she feels another piece of her soul slip away.
 
 
 
 
Excerpt from: "Soulism"

By D. M'Chelle

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