Poetry
Sounds from on the Ground
Community Poetry Series hosted by Lady Brion
SNAP! has used poetry as a tool to build community and encourage people to share their stories since its founding.
In July of 2015, Lady Brion, Maryland’s poet laureate, hosted a workshop with SNAP! for young adults focused on community building through poetry — marking the first of many empowering poetry events with SNAP!
Throughout the first half of 2016, SNAP! partnered with Northwood Branch Library to host workshops where young people had the chance to read, discuss, and write poetry. In March 2016, Lady Brion also came to Northwood Branch Library to teach youth to write poetry about community, home, belonging, and loss.
The poetry featured in Covenants, A theatrical Collage about Northwood, was largely developed during a workshop with Lady Brion in April 2016.
I Wish I Never Had to See
I wish I never had to see
The flickers of distrust and suspicion
in the eyes of the people
Your people, my people, our people
I am one of the people
I wish I never had to see
the line in the covenants that says
don’t sell your home to “them.”
I wish I never had to see
the island haven separateness
of those houses on the hill.
The “might as well be a gated community” neighborhood
that my neighbor chuckled about
with a hint of guilt at the newcomers party.
I wish I never had to see
the pain and trauma
that has an uncle to say to his nephew,
“I didn’t get to, why should you?”
Noone escapes a bucket full of crabs.
I wish I didn't have to see
her have to lie about her disease
so others can feel more comfortable
I wish I didn’t have to see
young parents trying to be
good parents while they have hurt
from their parents
all struggling to be the
good enough parent.
I wish I didn’t have to see
the face of white supremacy
impugn the skillful dignity
Of elder black woman protecting their own.
But I did see that.
I wish I didn’t have to see
my trembling hands quake from PTSD
As I grab the car door handle
as two young black men approach me
cuz of what happened “that time”
-- they were no older than 17 --
when they held me up at gun point
Ironically, in Guildford you see.
I wish I didn’t have to drive by their
Vacants to values across the street
That overflows with lead,
wars of drugs, agents of the profiteers who lock up
daddy-less daddies
who’ve succumb to fly blue or red
just to fit in or desire the only sense
of family they know.
I wish I didn’t have to see
MCIJ that promising young man
who got excited by the theatre class I taught
cause we asked “What is possible?”
This once engaged young man
bleary eyed now, nodding off, hands trembling too
-- not from PTSD, though he has that too,
is hooked on dope again, but this time
on the inside where possibility cannot reach.
I do know I wish I could see ...
visible healing faces
that agree to build bridges of community,
Agree to build community with new covenants,
Agree to build new bonds and new promises.
Because I’ve seen poetry lift up voices of folks
we can’t help but want to get to know better.
Who says we can’t prioritize
well being and feelings
over property values?
I’m talking about removing obstacles
and invisible fences in MY heart,
not talking about circling up for some kumbaya,
but checking myself cause I don’t get a pass
And whether I call in or call out white folks,
I’m looking for the courage
to risk my membership in the club
And please slap me up side my head
if my journey ever seems
to indulge in the trials
and tribulations of white heroism
I wish I didn’t have to see
… but it's important to see,
not be blind … to color,
to history …blind to my neighbors struggle
.. to brilliance, to possibility,
blind to a true snapshot of the present
State of affairs
Before presuming the pretense
of a “shared future.”
I wish I didn’t have to see ...
I wish I could see … you and me
What do you see?
I see you. I see you.
Do you see me?
Always Remember to Never Forget
Deshon Williams shared a spoken word poem about remembrance, fear, growing up, and hope.
SNAP! does not currently have documentation of the written poem, but you can watch a video of Williams’ performance.
Ode to Northwood
I come from frozen cups
And super soakers
Filled with water hoses
We ain't quite own
And berry fights behind
Northwood elementary where plenty
Boy-crushes became enemies
Even Got Bee-lined on the baseball field still don't swing bats because of it.
Come from a mama who made child care out of our home
Her work was crib cradling babies so they mamas could work
Come from a dog tag daddy
All iron pressed and creased
Boot camp and Hoorah
But ceased fire for baby girl
Come from the good part
The not too hood part
Come from the middle ground in a racial divide
Come from a family
Say we too proud to hide
So I been rebellion since chinquapin middle
Where I made a memorial of my uniform
Which means I chose not to conform
Means I was ring leader
The inciter
Suspension material
No concern that a class mate was now an ancestor
And we just wanted our khakis to be tombstone for the graveyards that our dead spirits had
become
Ode to Northwood
So the next time rebellion became an option
I was already equipped with martyrdom between my teeth
Already a usual suspect
Already target
Lead a high school infantry
Who believed we deserved better
Screaming
No education, no life
My life
Is A stitched quilt of snap shots
Like the memory of Ms Minors choir song
(Singing) I am a promise, I am a possibility
I am the hardships my family hid from Me, my now inability to be broken publicly
I am outskirts of inner city
The product of a two parent house hold which should be normal
But see for me it was an anomaly statically
I'm baptist church and AME preachers
sinners saved by grace
I am grace and amen
I'm black vs african American
Who now chooses to just be African
A product plucked from Hartsdale
From whence my heart hales
I am an ode to Northwood.
I Remember When…
Harry Archer performed a poem about his hometown.
SNAP! does not currently have documentation of the written poem or the video of his performance.
