The streets of Baltimore, I used to roam,
Underneath skies that felt like home,
A city that wasn’t built over night like Rome,
Shout out to the homie Jerome.
But now I'm far from its familiar shore,
Missing the city, I'll forever adore.
A city that breeds art, alive with wild sounds,
From the Inner Harbor to neighborhoods around.
Saturday club music and Sunday pastors preaching…
Squeegee boys seeking money and skipping Monday teachings.
A city of charm, warm with embrace,
I ache for its pace, and its vibrant grace.
Yet across the ocean, in Monrovia I started the race,
Where palm trees sway in the gentlest grace,
I picked up a piece of charcoal and drew a face,
Reflecting on my ancestors who were free slaves,
Fleeing prejudice and seeking peace in a new place.
But now back in the here in the United States,
longing for the laughter, and the vibrant cheer,
From the friends and family, I hold so dear.
The people of Liberia, so vivid and bright,
In Monrovia's day and Monrovia's night,
Despite of the past wars and pain
Their warmth and smiles so are wide,
I yearn for the moments by its seaside.
Though miles may separate, they're part of my soul,
These cities that make me feel whole,
I dream of returning, of being back soon,
To Baltimore's harbor and seeing Monrovia's moon.
So, until that day when I'm back in their fold,
In Baltimore and Monrovia, my stories are retold,
I'll carry their essence wherever I may be,
Missing them both, for they're a part of me.
With gratitude to Ms. Pat, LaToya M. Hobbs and Erin Fostel for their emotional support and artistic support as well.