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A Stroll Down Sweet Auburn Avenue by Jeff Pierce
Let’s stroll down Sweet Auburn Avenue for it is a sunny day My arms are like dragonfly wings and my feet are feeling gay As in happy, that is, if that be alright with you I invite you so that you might, too, stroll along Sweet Auburn Avenue Let not your feet drag, let’s walk Sweet Auburn Ave. For history calls out to us As we walk Sweet Auburn Avenue I hear it in the stones, long crumbled, and in the ones still standing, too I taste intense emotions of fear, rage, and anxiety Mobs, screams, dogs parking, guns being fired, speak easy music ringing out Back doors with pimps and who-res sneeking in and out I can hear a “holier than thou” preacher shout It is in the dust that coats my shoes, as I walk down Sweet Auburn Avenue with you I see strong hands, dainty hands with nails long and painted Opening and closing black iron gates now draped in rust I see beauty in the eyes of every black face I meet Knowing that they are one with us as are we with them A flood of folks with black blood floating down Sweet Auburn Avenue This is Sweet Auburn Avenue; Brothers and sisters, can I hear an “amen”? On we ramble in the shadow of black lives, smelling chitterlings and pig feet Some distant enterprise once a Mecca, now; well, what is there before our eyes? Our shadows lapping up the light on Sweet Auburn Avenue ...[Message truncated]
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