I WILL FLY

I grew up in a Melting Pot

And it was hard, as it was hot.

I grew up in a sinking spot,

With brothels and fossils

In my own backyard.

I watched a legacy of segregation

Transform into a beautiful

Micro-Nation,

Where children like me

Could flourish as the seeds

Of love, and racial miscegenation.

Beneath my feet, I felt salt wearing deckboards raw,

On a pier.

Before my eyes,

I saw of a people of joy, and never of fear.

I learned a little respect on the tip

Of a crayfish’s thorny claw…

And I rode my family’s float

In the parade, at Mardi Gras.

I watched tourists

Treat the Quarter

Like a circus,

Drunken clowns

Came to get down, with no purpose.

But now I realize

This was love, in disguise

As we remained, in

The wake of desertion…

I learned respect for my people,

Because

“Cajun ain’t Creole”,

And that’s something these Georgians

Don’t know.

And these folks get tired

Of hearing me talk about home.

But I miss that place.

I belonged to that crater,

And I’m honored to acknowledge

That she is my own.

Will I ever go home?

I can’t say that I know

What my Father has planned for me…

But when I die,

My soul shall surely fly

Back to that backyard,

In old New Orleans.

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