THE SWING AT THE SIDE OF THE CITY

CRADLE THESE CHILDREN WITH NO DIAMONDS.

THEY SEE THE HOUSE ON THE HILL

WHERE THE GRASS IS PLENTY

AND THE VIEW IS FLAWLESS.

BUT THEY KNOW THEIR WINDOWS ARE BREAKING

AND THEY KNOW THAT THE CONCRETE HURTS THEM.

" WHO WILL FINISH THEIR FOOD FIRST

AND THEN GET THE SECONDS? "

ONE OF THEM WILL GO TO BED HUNGRY.

ONE OF THEM WILL GO TO BED ANGRY.

ONE OF THEM WILL BECOME A VICTIM

AND ONE WILL BUY A GUN.

ONE WILL BECOME PREGNANT

AND ONE WILL END HER LIFE.

WHILE THEIR HOME FALLS TO PIECES…

AND BURRIES THEM BELOW CONFUSION.

WHILE THE CARS KEEP DRIVING HOMEWARD.

COVETING THEIR GOLD AND LEAVING THOSE CHILDREN BEHIND.

SEE THE SWING AT THE SIDE OF THE CITY

KEEPS SWAYING IN THE WIND AND TEARS FALL LIKE RAIN.

AND A MAN TOSSES HIS SNOW AT A 5 YEAR OLD BOY

AND COLLECTS HIS MONEY WHEN THE SCHOOL BELL RINGS.

BUT THERE IS GRASS BENIETH THE HOUSE ON THE HILL.

THERE IS A GATE AND THERE ARE GUARDS AROUND THE FENCES

ABANDONED BY THOSE WHO OWN IT AND EMPTY OF LIFE.

ABOVE GRASS SO GREEN AND FLOWERS SO BRIGHT.

THE BOY MIGHT CLIME THE FENCE AND FIND A WAY INSIDE.

AS SOON AS THE CONCRETE ENDS AND THE VALLEY BEGINS.

THIS IS THE BREAKING AND ENTERING

OF A CHILD BORN WITH NOTHING.

UNHEARD BECAUSE THE TRAINS NEVER WENT TO SLEEP.

THE CHILD NEVER WENT TO SLEEP.

HE ONLY LOOKED ACROSS THE RIVER THAT DEVIDES

PEACE FROM AGONY AND GRASS FROM CONCRETE AND RICH FROM POOR.

THE NEW YORK TIMES BECAME A PILLOW FOR CHARITY.

THE CEILING IS FALLING ON HIS CHEEK MORE OFTEN.

HE PLANS HIS PATH ACROSS THE RIVER AND HAS

ONE MORE SWING AT THE SIDE OF THE CITY.

WHERE THE WIND SINGS SO QUIET

AND THE CHAINS CHIME EACH TIME THE SKY RETURNS.

HE COVERS HIS EARS AS THE TRAIN ROARS BY.

———— HE SAYS GOOD-BYE————–

AND HE CROSSES THE RIVER TO THE HOUSE ON THE HILL

WHERE THE LIGHT SHINES BRIGHT AND THE WATER SPARKLES GENTLY.

AND HE CLIMES THE GATE TO GET TO WHERE THE GRASS LAYS.

BUT THE GATE WAS TO TALL AND THE GUARDS CAME RUNNING WITH PISTOLS

AND ONE SHOT IN THE AIR AND THE OTHER SHOT HIM IN THE BACK.

AND NO BRIDGE EVER CROSSED THE RIVER THAT DEVIDED

CONCRETE FROM EARTH, RICH FROM POOR, AND BEAUTY FROM SORROW.

KINDRA CONNELL!

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