Garden of Brightmoor
Brown eyes inquiring
Beneath barely formed eyebrows
Winding to corkscrews of indelicate hair
Letting her know she must tend
To this emerging mind
Emanating from disregarded city streets
Forming broken tree limbs from last winter’s storm
In the Garden of Brightmoor.
Homes stricken with the debris of racism
And decay of human compassion
Distract from determined women
Dedicated to caring for the next generation
In the Garden of Brightmoor.
Pierson street home to heroes
Licensed for 12 minds in diapers
Nurturing descendants
To the greatness of their capability
As consistent daily routines prepare them
To engage with the grace of family
What some see as care does not reflect
The borne weight of responsibility
And education that takes place
In the Garden of Brightmoor.
Concrete landscape where EBT replaces Apple Card
Buying necessities for the miniature kitchens
Tended to by heirs to inequality
Whose banks have shelves instead of tellers
And students focusing on basketball and screaming
With the joy they have for one another
If only the bus routes found their way to them
Like the loose parts play every morning
After picking weeds that look like flowers
In the Garden of Brightmoor.
Exquisite kinky hair cascading
Across the Grace Byers book saying
I am Enough with shoes shaped like animals
And fake ovens on floors baking memories
That last a millennia
In the Garden of Brightmoor.
Multicolored carpet strewn with toys
And hopes not yet realized
Under fluorescent lights casting shadows of opportunity
From open ceilings hewn with beams
Shielding an underserved future
And trees painted on walls with colors in the currency
Of calculated learning building a bridge
Beyond the blight to a prized space to be able to give back
To these matrons who gave so much
To make so many so much more
Than they would have been otherwise
In the Garden of Brightmoor.
They may not see the harvests of their labor
For the season it takes a woman
To build the future of who we are
Is longer than the time our vegetables and fruit
Are carted across the contours of a country
That leaves them just far enough away to ignore
Given what’s stowed at my local store
Otherwise an easy choice for those who live
In a more desired zip code
But the children will reap what they have sowed
In the Garden of Brightmoor.
This is what they are planting
This is who they are tending
Detroit is where they are staying
This is why we should hear them
This is why we should adore them
Now is when they should be revered
In the Garden of Brightmoor.
