I’m free
to look out my window
to see doctors, nurses, teachers on their way to work,
old heads teaching young ones to do double dutch,

I’m free to play
on playgrounds, ungated,
no more missing or creaky swings,
no yellow tape or cops, no buildings left to rot,

I’m free to wander
past beautiful houses, full of families,
Black businesses in Black communities,
gardens attracting butterflies and animals,
hella block parties and community talent shows,

I’m free to hear
crickets and frogs, no more gunshots, fireworks, or arguing —
just birds you’ve never even heard before,
children’s laughter, and a lot of singing,
the music from the people’s porches while they cook out,

I’m free to belong
in a place where neighbors speak to each other, saying;
“Hey can I help you with that?”
“I haven’t seen you in a while?”
“How are you doing?

I’m free to enjoy
all the families here together, looking over photo books
of memories created with one another,
because no one is separated,
because sons and dads are together,
and dads and grandparents,
talking together, caring for each other,

I’m free to experience
a childhood full of softness, gentleness,
where our moms don’t have to be tough on us
to prepare us for a dark world,
where we don’t feel violated, rushed, or scared,
where our moms can just focus on loving us and watching us take up space,
where I don’t have to be extra tough.
Where I don’t have to prepare for something terrible.

I’m free to just be me.
I’m dancing,
skipping down the street,
because I know, when I walk outside,

that I’m free

to come back home.