1/30

4/1/13


 I left Oakland almost a year ago,
the grind, the traffic, the murder rate.

I left with my family, for a place less
dangerous, less angry, less broken.

I left a group of children I promised otherwise
in confusion, in dirt, in the hands of those I don't trust.

My kids play outside now; in the grass
they run, they twirl, they play

The children in Oakland slap treads to concrete
chain link, boarded windows, gunshots.

At night when I begin to dream:
The children, the children, the children.