Under Windsor Bridge by Adolphe Valette
Entombed in the gritty fog
rolling under Windsor Bridge
the past hangs heavy;
smells of damp basement.
Thinking back in time I remember
how many young men crossed this bridge
north bound to Canada
placing themselves in a sort of purgatory
not knowing if or when they might make a return trip.
Those were dark times in America
even darker for Detroit;
smoldering nightly somewhere in the summer heat.
A big time city eating it's own young.
Cannibalizing it's inner soul.
The decay remains evident today
in areas blackened
that have not and never will come back.
That's what they say.
Funny thing this city,
flowed to Canada;
while in the heart of old Detroit
riots raged to burned out store fronts;
skeletons of Detroit made cars smoldered.
Motor city became the capital
of civil-disobedience & of civil-unrest.
Michael A. Wells