Linda Hirschhorn
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© December 2004..2009 Linda Hirschhorn

To survive
you must be it:
loud busy beautiful angry unrepentant.

the rumble and rhythm of
was our music
the swaying of its bridges
our dance.

The streets our homes
jockeying for pavement on the way to school
chasing down runaway balls on return.

We made, broke treaties
with our neighbors
over and over.

On summer nights
we climbed up to our rooftops
and reached out to grab
slices of moon.
And yet,
one day
in the calm of the Cloisters
Like sea gulls of winter
we took flight.

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