So much has happened since then.
Infants have become adults
and saplings have become full-grown trees.
In some cases,
the world has forgotten the existence of you.

Some people have forgotten about you
and your former skyline.
Some have never seen you;
at least, not the way you used to be.
But not me.

No, I remember.

Somewhere aside from the typical norm,
besides the same streets we’ve seen
or aside from the usual views of the Hudson
as seen down by Liberty
or the spots in SoHo, the Village,
or the uptown fads and Central Park,
or aside from the long walks along Central Park West
and a memory thereafter;
which is a time at the Conservatory Garden in Harlem,
that was visited during a class
in which I saw myself in a different light –
learning that I earned this right
to claim my share in this world
(I swear)
and be who I choose –

This idea is not mine and neither is the lesson.
However, I am sure the idea I am about to share
is something that has been handed down
for generations and has varied from person to person.

The idea of Grandma’s soup or a homemade dish
and the warmth of a meal is as old as time
and equally true, I say that food is love.

In the beginning,
I saw through a lens of a child
I thought with the ideas of a childlike mind and yet,
I am not so different now than I was then –
still eager, still teething,
still learning and still watching the world unfold
which happens as they say “one day at a time.”
Or so they tell me.

We have to adjust our view.
Know what I mean?
Someone told me about a program they run.
They told me a line they teach
which I might be paraphrasing a little
Or maybe I’m right on – but either way,
They said the mind goes where the energy flows

Sleepless . . .
Ever sit up late
and listen to the sound of rain
falling against your roof?
I tell you there’s something about this sound.
There’s something about the sound of angry raindrops,
teeming, crashing down
like a thousands little foot-soldiers
landing after leaping from the sky
and then running down the roof –

It is a few moments before sunrise –
I am looking through a window
and tracking the vague moments before the sunlight.
It is dark and the sky is about to bloom,
which is good

The moments of autumn are underway and soon,
the world around me will cool
and the leaves will change.
I am somewhere in the middle of nowhere,
or at least it seems.
Better yet, I am somewhere familiar
yet the world is allowed to be strange to me.

I am in no position to judge anyone.
I am human, of course, just like the rest of us are.
I have pieces of me that are dark
and at the same time, I have other pieces of me
that have been embraced by the light. 

I have secrets and lies and sins and mistakes;
therefore, I have no right to either accuse
or condemn nor do I have the correct position
to act as either judge or jury. 

I do my best to remember that . . .

I am driving by myself, alone,
heading south on the parkway and driving before the sunrise
heading down the same trip which has become automatic
which is familiar, yet strange in a sense
because as I head towards my usual destination
I have come to the realization that I have outgrown the clothes of my past
and that my old uniforms no longer fit me.

I am me –
A child, a person, a grown up
and whether man or woman
or in whichever form I choose to be or call myself
– I am me.
I am and this, undoubtedly,
which means I will always be me,
even if I try to portray
or pretend to be anyone else –
I am and will always be me