Serendipity

Serendipity

I miss the sound of gunshots to ring in the new year

That exhilaration comes with divine gratitude

For to try and live, then die young is the way of the ghetto.

I grew tired of the sound of copper taxis piercing the still midnight air.

I grew tired of hoping I had not just lost.

I simply grew tired.

Of everything but the sound of gunshots on New Year’s Eve:

Signifying another journey around the sun.

In the presence of hope, I break down;

Pouring liquor on the street.

For my brother who we lost to a gun.

The ghetto displays the many ironies of life.

For although it is the sound of gunshots which so often take away

Tis these same vibrations which bring then make serendipity stay

On any other day, they drive fear.

On any other day, they cripple me.

On any other day, they’d stash me under the bed.

Like drug money.

On any other day I tell you.

Not today though.

Today we celebrate,

Today we rejoice.

Today we give the most high praise;

In hopes he appraises our Souls precisely.

We’ve grown tired of feeling cheap.