Hamoya

Her heart is their safe-haven
Resting in her bosom
To lick their wounds
Sheltered from the cold clutch
Of demons and concrete nightmares
That breathe death
On North Philly nights
Where street lights cast crimson images
Of sticky blood stained memories
On sidewalks that buckle and crack
Under the shame of their stories
And gun smoke laden winds
Chill creaky homes
Weary and rotten to the frame
From constant neglect
And bullet fragments
Where steel blue cold and desert hot sun
Blend to become one in the same
As a backdrop on a canvas
Of death and pain

Another Prince has died today
Just up the block from her home
Where she sat with Princes that she’d rescued
And embraced with her soul
Listening to their concrete dreams
Breathing life into their aspirations
Teaching the art
Of smiling from the heart
They had forgotten long ago
Then,
The familiar clack of a 9mm gun
Reminded them
Why the smiles never lasted for long

It is true
Death resides in the alleys
Between the many Churches and Liquor Stores
That prop up North Philly
It is also true
That hearts are rebuilt
Dreams are restored
And smiles learn to live again
In the living room of Hamoya’s home

~Dedicated to Yolanda Hamoya Reyes
A shining light and savior for many Young Men
And Women in North Philadelphia

© 2011 Keith Horton