Pardon me, ladies
on floors eight, nine and ten—
make room for love,
for forgiveness, strength and
honor all above.
It was rough from the beginning
and the times, they were tough.
One hundred years later,
little has changed for many
as some of us can still be seen
feeding from the same trough.
But the virtue we contained has grown
to a size too big to try and control
and the landscape has rearranged
past the streets of Washington and Greene.
Eyes have opened and ears have heard
that the people must live without
the perils and horror which
tear us away from our hearts and each other.
The uncovering of hazardous terrain
leads to repavement with thought.
The blood stain remains on our shirtwaist—
with this we shall never part.
There will always be a way
for darkness to seep
onto our doorstep or fire escape,
but that is when more light is shone
from the people that fight for the freedoms
into that which we are born.
And there will always be people like you
who are exploited, martyred and inexplicably doomed.
It is the duty for those who can
to fight for those who are disadvantaged.
I have seen miracles in the instance of plight,
changes made and wrongs turned right.
We all possess the goodness in turn
within our experience and others’
to ensure that the fire will always burn.
Unlock the door so that we may live and love—
we’ve got the key we need to the past.
Unchain the present and continue to learn,
be there for and grow from each other.
This we must not forget.
With hopes and fears for future generations
that our liberties may ever last.