Poem by Jasmine Battie

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He introduced himself

Laid back full of soul

Had this air that would fill any room he was in

He was fine yal

Tall, dark, and handsome

Smooth like Midnight

He told me about his story

How he died young and was reborn,

all in one rotation of existence

He carried these ashes in his belly

Set fire to the foundation of dreams

He burned a path to freedom

And one day he got wind of his own smoke

Choke on the air and died there

While the Motown sound played in the background

He lived once

through the spirits of creation and devastation

And somehow still managed to innovate his beauty

He since then has been forgotten

But he still lays instilled in your dreams

The streets still echoes his name when you sleep

You may hear whispers of his story,

if you take the time

and listen to the wind carefully

You’ll hear his story, his history

He’s not history

He’s our history

And I came here to tell you that

Detroit lives yal,

Detroit still lives

Post by: Jasmine Battie

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