By Jada Gibbs
A place of safety but also hell
A separation of good guy and bad guy
But no ever wanted to come together
Pride in the way with guns
In they hands
A society within society
That our children had to survive in.
Dreaming of hope and a future to get away
Cuz war was the only way.
Seeing brother on the corner every morning to make ends
meet just so his family can eat.
Momma could never sleep
Because little Timmy started hitting them streets.
The place I call home
Our society was built on music that was foreign to them but
Culture to us.
GoGo.
The smelling of carryout on every corner
That had you craving but having
only lint, dimes, and nickels
in your pockets wasn’t enough
For Ma behind the glass that tax everything like she was related to Uncle Sam
You know Uncle Sam that take momma last every tax season.
Catching the bus to school every morning was like traffic on feet
You move to slow you get knocked over.
People running over you like the world is about to end
And there’s only one place of protection.
Babies crying in your ear and kids staring a hole in your face.
As if you were a reflection of her
or another image of her father.
Or his father or they father
Cuz all daddies were deadbeats
According to momma.
The train ride was like Interrogation.
Boys looking because you got the new J’s
And girls looking because boys looking
When you wasn’t even heading their way.
The place I call home.
Washington D.C.
The place I call home.
Where I survived D.C.
The place I call home.
Where I will never forget D.C. because
D.C. was its own society.
The place I call home.
THE VIRGINIA NORMAL 