Thursday, August 7, 2014

Detroit, or Bright Eyes on Faded Fabric

Bright eyes on faded fabric
The still-burning souls of places neglected
no-
forgotten
As they gather in a heap by the road.
Repurposed anew
art in the cinderblocks and
cement of the empty city
Life in what is always described as the desolate wasteland of
Detroit
Some ask-why would you go there?
Media makes it out
Cold
God-forsaken.

But how can we believe that
for we know that God does not leave
God does not forsake
And even when a city is seen as dull
And dead
There is life

Life is the
sparks in those bright eyes
like embers

Burn a fire too bright, fuel runs out.
Keep an ember alive, it smolders
Ready to be breathed back into life.

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