Camden in Tones as Vibrant as the Place

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Abstract

ople on their porches, talking. A woman on the steps of the corner store, smoking. She is a solitary figure, blankly following me with her eyes then, a long, smooth drawl of her cigarette. There are cats and children who live here. The neighbors are cousins and uncles and nieces who meet at fronts of houses to discuss childhood and roads as old as anything. Sports and the exodus of fresh produce.The good news is magnolias still bloom in front of the school where twins are hugged by

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their mother. Stubbornly, they refuse to leave without saying a prayer. The woman looks at their angelic faces and says, “repeat with me — ‘Open, oh Lord, the hearts of all humans, that they may act appropriately.’”I fix my eyes on God. I am the witness of life in the heart of the city of Camden. This is a living city with people. They walk daily, evidence that mothers persist in a million little ways.© <a href="undefined">Daniel Barry</a>, 2022</article></body>

Submission for The Lark’s poetry competition — runner-up poem in the competition

People on their porches, talking. A woman on the steps of the corner store, smoking. She is a solitary figure, blankly following me with her eyes then, a long, smooth drawl of her cigarette. There are cats and children who live here. The neighbors are cousins and uncles and nieces who meet at fronts of houses to discuss childhood and roads as old as anything. Sports and the exodus of fresh produce.

The good news is magnolias still bloom in front of the school where twins are hugged by their mother. Stubbornly, they refuse to leave without saying a prayer. The woman looks at their angelic faces and says, “repeat with me — ‘Open, oh Lord, the hearts of all humans, that they may act appropriately.’”

I fix my eyes on God. I am the witness of life in the heart of the city of Camden. This is a living city with people. They walk daily, evidence that mothers persist in a million little ways.