(Inspired by Piri Thomas)
There’s a quilt of unsung word songs
struggling to keep our children warm on frigid nights
where hatred thunders, injustice howls and ignorance storms.
There’s a quilt of unsung words whispering in the dreams of future child poets
awakening, nourishing imprisoned souls.
There is a quilt of historical patchwork threaded with gold griot tongue
in hues of Piri, Miguel, Pedro and Bobby.
Ghetto children envision a place where
Sounds of the Streets no longer dominate
No Mo’ Barrio Blues.
Fantasies propelling them to a time when those with less shared more
and stars flash light for us to join them at the peak of success.
Where true Latin kings are free of Cara de Palo Thoughts
and smiles of judicial peace aren’t “wasted”
but, instead, “drive demons away”.
Here, looking through blind eyes and listening with deaf ears
unleashes subjugated hearts
allowing them to engorge with dignity
and words become concrete with honor.
There’s a quilt whose patches of knowledge, experience, compassion and wisdom are stitched with fine lexis
providing a secure blueprint for generations to come,
allowing historical preservation.