My Father's House
Gentrification coming to a neighborhood near you!
A white fog steals possessively over the old horizon
They call it Progression
We call it Oppression.
Leaving depression in the eyes of those whose nativity is destroyed in the name of luxury
In my father’s house there were many mansions
This is not my father’s house
My father’s house was fresh mowed lawns, barber shops,
and corner stores selling lollipops
Neighbors close enough to watch the children playing
yet far enough you can’t hear what they’re saying
The overstuffed bellies of the bureaucracy belch prosperity
That leave our communities in decay
These are his father’s houses
Corrugated boxes of tin and steel
Selling for a couple hundred mil
with a name brand coffee store thrown in to seal the deal
No longer do the children play
Their memories a remnant of brighter days
I bow my head and quietly pray
For the memory of a legacy stolen away
About the Creator
Elle Marrie
A creative multipotentialist looking to leave a positive smear on the earth proving I once existed. Originally from Texas, I'm currently almost living my dream life as a jewelry artist in Los Angeles.
Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.