the streets

It's late at night and i'm sitting on my balcony, thinking about how i love seeing the stars.
I can't tonight, like most nights, the city lights stamp them out. However, i can hear the wind blowing through the trees and that is comforting. I hear the rumble of cars on 94, sirens in the distance, and even a few rouge gunshots. When it rains I hear it drip between the houses, and i can watch my neighbors eat dinner from my kitchen, as well as hear when their phone rings, all these thoughts make me feel at home.

The Streets,
always moving, never pausing, ferocious at times, giving at others.
I've seen everything in Detroit, wandered down every alley, all hours of the day.
I've seen defecation, procreation, overwhelming grief, death and life. I've seen love, people starting over, and people giving up.
These streets are real, they are honest, they are bent, broken and reborn.

People live in detroit, there is not time or room, for glamour, or facade. this is you, this is me, we are equal, we are one.

But not always.

For all the bad there is equal, good.
In our community, people here are trying to fight, with our dire circumstances, trying to live, and help others live. People believe, and I believe, that we are fighting against odds, and we will overcome, and we will celebrate our own victories.

For every stranger i make smile, to the building recently rehabbed across the street, we will celebrate, together.

I love Detroit with every fiber of my body. When i need it, it's there, moving, breathing, it sits beside me, and we are one. The sounds of the city and I, my late night lullaby.