Diversity we see
Colours we hear
And sure, on journeys we are unified
MTA does something right
But the higher we get
The fewer colours
The less coming together
The more falling apart
And this I see everyday
This I feel is still in the way.
I love the city
Those who “survive the twilight”
Surely “get through the night”
But how can we escape
The vicious circle
We entrench ourselves and society in
We entrench our souls in and we suffocate-
A microcosm of a buried reality
Unearthing itself before my teary eyes
As we travel higher.
Higher should not be mistaken
for heavenly
far from it, though supposedly we tend
“Yes we can” sees no closure
It is yes we can continue
Yes we must strive
To contrive a better world
While we're all still alive.
I clench my fists every morning
Feeling powerless
Helpless
At times hopeless when I see
The desolate faces, we all do
We are all performers
Like an act, pulling back a curtain
Of generous yearnings
And cries
Revealing empty hands
entranced
by the dazzling sights
That our city boasts
That our people boast
we, the people, are but divided.
I want to help
I want to cry for help
But I feel as if we are too deep
the tumult and oppression seeps
“I have a hungry son”
“My parents were shot I had to run”
All potential lies-
But so what?
If desperation has demanded such lengths
For a dollar or even 2 pence
Reality needs no words to justify.
Yet I’d like to think we are all pained
By the flagrant injustice
manifesting itself on our trains
yet we fake stomach it
get off the train, walk to work
blankly
And we do it so well-
mostly.
All I ask is that we refrain
From neglecting the pain
diversity may well be
but the higher we go
The fewer colors I see
And this I feel every day
And this I know is still in the way.
//Yasmine Ayman