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Sunday, April 9, 2017
paterson
Who among us has not moved at least
once
Settling into a new neighborhood
Meeting strangers who live next to us
Expecting or hoping to be able to
live and let live.
All of us who move are immigrants
free to travel
Unless we have an accent that gives
us away
Unless our clothes display our
difference
Though all people of color are
suspect around here.
If you follow Goffle Brook a short
distance to Hawthorne
Downstream from where I am living now
Going to walk the two miles on the
streamside path
You will meet a friendly diverse
group of people.
Past the park the brook flows into
the Passaic River
Across from Paterson a mile below the
Great Falls
Where water powered mill buildings
remain today
Holding such a momentous history of
immigrant workers.
A hundred years ago all the languages
of Europe were in the air
When the 1913 Paterson silk strikers
for the 8 hour day and improved conditions
Heard speeches translated on the fly to
the assembled workers
Led by the International Workers of
the World.
A century later the mills are silent
but one thing has not changed
The city hosts another influx of immigrants
struggling to survive
Only now on these worn streets you hear
Spanish and Arabic
Fearful the authorities will make
trouble for unwelcome newcomers.
I talk to them about their lives when
I go to Paterson to teach English
Volunteering to help women with
children to learn to get by
Walking Mill Street and Market and
Main to the classroom building
Passing the old brick and the newer
bodegas.
A city bus driver in Paterson would
know these people the riders
Some getting on and off at the same
time and place each day
Much like I came to know most
everyone on my delivery route
When I drove a UPS truck on the Lower
East Side of Manhattan.
In the movie of the same name the driver
goes to sit by the Great Falls
Writing private poems that echo other
Paterson poets
Especially William Carlos Williams but
not so much Allen Ginsburg
Expressing his thoughts and feelings
to himself alone.
I can relate to that but that is
not me
And it is not real when no passengers
have accents
Just the caricature bus dispatcher at
the terminal
And no one wears a burqa on his bus
9306.
I like seeing the familiar background
street scenes
Because for me the city plays the
starring role in the movie
But only if you know the history of
the place
And know who lives there now.
I see a glimpse of Garret Mountain as
the bus turns a corner
And my thoughts go to the park up
there overlooking the river
To the avian migrants dropping down
to stop over each spring
Needing to rest and eat before flying
across to High Mountain.
The birds are welcome travelers attracting
crowds of bird watchers
Enjoying the arrival of so many
different species gathered in one place.
If only the people living down below
were so valued
The Great Falls would be in the Great
City celebrating humanity.
Saturday, April 8, 2017
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