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Weez Here

American History in Verse

By Terri LyonsPublished 7 years ago 1 min read
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From Light of the August Moon

Weez Here

We shook the southern dust from our feet for the last time,

By foot, mule, train or truck,

Dixie is at our back and a new day is ahead,

Detroit, Chicago, Philadelphia, and New York,

We finally made it!

Weez here!

Thank the Lord,

Weez here.

But it don’t feel the same;

All that we’ve ever known is gone,

The warmth of familiar relations,

Sustenance across wide open fields

That swallows the evening sun into the lower forty,

The smell of the wood burning stove

Gone,

Doesn’t seem quite real just yet,

But, weez here.

Honking horns and loud machines

So many people and so many streets,

Look at all these cars,

Skyscrapers blocking the sun,

Storefront church right next to the bar

Lawd have mercy,

Shoe shine boy asking for a dime,

Evangelist warns us the end of time is near

Undertaker on the ground floor,

Doctor’s office upstairs

Citified folk walk and talk so fast

And always seem to be in such a hurry

I wonder where they going?

It’s hard to understand what to do next,

Hard to understand how.

Every door is shut tight,

Until we get to the Belt, The Bottom, or Uptown

With no more to offer than cold water flats,

Kitchenettes or second floor back

But it beats the plantation shack,

And weez here.

Yeah, weez here and it hurts,

We’re put to shame by our own people

Calling us simpleminded and backward,

White folks act like they’re afraid and only speak

When the rent is due or when they’re looking for a nurse, a butler or a maid.

We traded bo-weevils for roaches,

The outhouse for a stopped up toilet,

We traded the farm fresh air

For the funk of a rundown building

And a tower of stairs

But,

weez here.

Slowly lynched,

Packed up on top of one another

Fussin,

Expired tempers pouring blood into the street

Slowly dying,

Loosing our grip on this thing called hope

Fighting,

Just to breathe our own air.

We patch together parts of down home that we miss the most;

Our music and food, our song and dance with the best of folks who share and enjoy in what we are longing for

Then, it’s back to,

The Madam’s kitchen,

Mister’s factory

Master’s clean up boy,

But weez here,

Yes, thank you Lawd,

Weez here.

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