I Long For The Breath Of Peace Again

A billboard near 14th Street and Pulaski Road on Chicago’s West Side echoes the cry of many in black and brown neighborhoods across the city. (Photo:John W Fountain)

By John W. Fountain

This is my summer song:

Stanza 1 (The Metaphor)
Thunder. Rain. Death. Pain. I long for the breath of peace again. And mornings without the dew of aftermath. Of weekend tallies. Of epitaphs. And bloodbaths.

I long for symphonies of ghetto children, drifting in winds of better times. Lifted on wings in ice cream skies and apple pie. And peace is not an illusion. And self-destruction is not the conclusion of us.

I long for misty water-colored memories. When boys slap-boxed. Made slingshots. Licked icy cups. And girls jumped rope. Hopscotched. Kissed lollipops. And nobody got shot.

It’s been so long that maybe we forgot…

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