Although most often I write freely, some of my writings take on specific poetic forms. This piece is a small ballad that I wrote some time ago. The murder rate in Philadelphia was high then and it is even higher now. It’s entitled, ‘Crying Cracks’.
Tainted cement has become shades of burgundy
The cracks began to cry out
Another son has been laid to rest
False police security has created doubt
“We’ll find who did this!”
An exclamation shouted too often
A mother’s heart continues to break
Pain years will never soften
With black suits and bowed heads
The audience begins to pray
A casket lifted high amid life
Another 16 year old perished on this day
Guard your loved ones is what we are told
Yet, shields and spears of love only betray
As narcotics and the idea of quick money
A mother’s worry never allay
So we must protect our own
Shield our young cubs
Yet, with closed eyes tears fall
As his ’91 caddy rolls around the corner on dubs
He can afford to give you rent money
A couple hundred dollars or two
Yet, as he lies un-awakening
You’ve never prepared to bid him ‘Adieu’
So she straightens his tie
As her lips press softly against his forehead
She never thought she would receive the call
“Ma’am your son has just been pronounced dead”
As he is lowered into the ground
“Our father in heaven,” is what the preacher prays
Sixteen years of memories
Planned and buried in five days
Grief never settles are there are others to tend too
Thus deep burgundy shades have morphed once more
A mother’s love forgotten
And another swallowed by our streets open door