Mariela Griffor

Detroit

When I drive down from
Grosse Pointe on Warren
a sudden knot in my heart
is born.
Solitude
is roaming
with the images of
a city broken
and gone.
I cross my fingers
hoping I won't see
any black cats
crossing
these steaming manholes.
Detroit, so full of churches,
so where is God?
Could He be hiding
under politicians' coats?
A "mon cher"
looked through my car window
and believed
he melted snow.
His eyes aflame
consumed two seconds
when the red light stopped.
City in flames,
who took away your palaces?
It was not me.
I am a foreigner,
I just came to see.
Detroit, wake up
from your sleep.
Rebuild your empire.
Rebuild it
so I can see.
Forget about
black LaKeishas
and your white Portias.
Forget about your yellow Chengs
and your brown Carolas.
Let the golden haze
that rusts on your aura
shine proudly
on your face again.
Let a feeling of goodness
drench the city like a storm.
Let your dreams flourish and endure.
Turn the holy fight into
salutation.
Let the happiness return.
Leave your vinegar grief behind.
Let me see, Detroit.
Let me see.



Also from Mariela Griffor:
Green

Contributor Bio

Mariela Griffor was born in the city of Concepcion in southern Chile. She attended the University of Santiago and the Catholic University of Rio de Janeiro. She left Chile for an involuntary exile in Sweden in 1985. She and her American husband returned to the United States in 1998 with their two daughters. They live in Grosse Pointe Park, Michigan. She is co-founder of The Institute for Creative Writers at Wayne State University and Publisher of Marick Press and curator of the Poets Follies Reading Series at the Ewald library in Grosse Pointe, MI. Her work has appeared in periodicals across Latin America and the United States. Mariela Holds a BA in Journalism and is currently enrolled in a MFA Program in Poetry at New England College. She is author of Exiliana and House. Mariela is the honorary Consul of Chile in Michigan.