I used to think I looked presidential here. Maybe I should rename this to “from the PJs to the Presidency” 😂

Anyway, this is the first poem from a book I’m working on called: “Soul Fed.” If you like it, tell me in the comments! If you really like it, buy my first book, “A Smothered Scripture” tagged here. 📚

✍🏾

“Them Project Kids”

Like living in a prison.
Painted cinder blocks,
only insulation between you
and the outside world.
Barred windows, stifled dreams
into believing there was no escape.

But on the other hand:
we lived in a hope
called relationships.
My mom knew all my friends
–while forever reminding me
“You ain’t got no friends.”–
and our neighbors actually borrowed
sugar after telling my grandma every
little thing they saw me do
(out their window)
on my way home from school,
or what they overheard me say to Jonathan
when the elevator door opened,
or whose house I ran to trying
to flee the bullets.
We were a village in a war zone.
We were the natives of a military territory.
We were aliens, the first illegals and refugees:
all trying to break the curse
without knowing how
to get us free; we were damned.

—Sincerely, Tyra 👸🏾