Psalm #1, Prayer to the Goddess of the City
My City, my City, please heal me—put skin back on my knees.
My City, kind City, please heal me—with dust and breath from the street.
My City, gentle City, please heal me—dry my face in streaks.
My City, wise City, please heal me—let scabs form when I bleed.
My City, our City, please remember us that played football in your lots. We were the ones with hockey-sticks—wild, dirty, hot. We were the ones without referees—slashers, brawlers, liars, thieves. Those were the voices you carried in the heat, and we are those children you cradled in your streets.
So City, caring City, when we open our doors, remember us please—let the sidewalks be healing, let the taxis be teeming, and let us (let me) be received.