Friday, April 5, 1968 – George Washington High School – 181st Street, Manhattan
Empty halls, few footsteps, no horseplay
in the Heights today.
I can’t pretend to teach those few who show,
sit atop desks nailed to the floor.
Radio tuned to news: fires, storefronts smashed,
looting in Harlem, home to many here.
A tearful Darlene asks, “Why do they hate us?”
At twenty-four, in the city less than a year,
what did I know?
Andrea lifts her guitar
looks to me for a nod
strums, sings folk songs she’s written.
We sing along.
The final bell demands we
head home.
Scent of mimeograph hand-outs,
chalk dust in the air.
Climbing out of the subway far from school,
shoppers crowd sidewalks, kids play in the park.
Daffodils at the corner bodega
catch my eye.
The question echoes in my ears,
begs an answer.
I have none.
Janet Banks’ essays and poems have been published by Parks & Points, Bluestem Magazine, Cognoscenti, The Rumpus, Entropy Magazine, and other online sites. She is developing a collection of poems about aging, the concept of time, and the need to create a future as you grow old.
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