My observations of many men in inner city Baltimore is they are always on the move. Talking to a lot of the young men who have not seen their father, are waiting for him to return, have watched him on the streets, watched him walk out of the house, and so many other scenario’s, it seems like many men will not stand still for a minute. The culture of occupying the corners and being constantly on the move is troubling. To the readers of my blog, I offer this poem:
Pacing
He paces up and down
The street corner
Pushin’ … sellin’ ‘n’ hustlin’
He paces up and down the streets
Lookin’ for the guy that owes him money
He paces up and down with rage
Havin’ beaten his woman
Coz she ended the relationship
He paces outside the liquor store
With a bottle in his hand
And stumbles around in the dark
He paces up and down at the bus stop
Waitin’ to go to his destination
As he has no car and is
Frustrated at standin' in the rain
He paces up and down
Waitin’ for his victim to emerge from the club
He paces up and down in the holdin’ cells
Waitin’ to be handed a life sentence
He paces up and down his prison cell
Unable to cope with his life sentence
He hangs himself
Coz he can’t face pacin’ up and down anymore
If only he’d stood still for a while
Peace
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