The Butterfly Borough

B is for broke down buildings,
crumbling bricks of
1970’s asbestos ground
bound homes that
Babylon turned its back on
because there was no
bread baking in the oven.
No bacon being brought home.

Borrowed dimes in bankrupt times
yield no return on investments when
bodegas bail out abuelas
with arroz y habichuelas to feed families.
Keep hearts filled with hope,<
and fed bellies,
even when they’re broke.<

The butterfly borough
bailando mariposa metamorphosis,
baptized by babbling brooks of the
Bronx River creeks flowing free
as we’ve always wished to be.
Blades of grass grow unique through
graffitied concrete.

We tell brilliant, blemished stories
backdropped with bongo beats.

B is for the birthplace of hip hop,
the Bronx Zoo, Botanical Gardens, and
the house that Babe Ruth built.

B to the R
R is revival inspired by need for survival…
Instilled by revolutionaries rising from rubbish like Phoenix’s.
Radical descendants of hedonists,
told to be realists,
when the streets were the meanest.

Home of the Nuyorican Movement, Puerto Rican Renaissance, and the Young Lord’s Party that forced responses to false promises.

The Bronx; The Republic of Redemption

B to the R to the O
Oh, ya’ll thought we were done?!
We’re just getting started!

O is for the obstruction of justice,
let’s have an open discussion of the poverty,
the numbness,
introductions of substance,
oppressing the numbers,
and politicians we’ve trusted…

Orthodox churches
with unorthodox conversions,
“In the name of the father,”
left us a borough of orphans,
or corpses in coffins.
Sermons release endorphins,
but epidemics returned hopeless.

We are the sons and daughters of the broken.
No need for condolences,
just take notice,
these struggles were a bonus,
adding depth to our motives.

B to the R to the O to the N

N is for the nation of Bronx Natives,
born or raised in this creative oasis.
For the nameless living day to day basics,
feeling nostalgic for patience
’cause newspapers are complacent
with negative conversations.

We shall replace them with positive narration,
place hand written love notes
against their throats as indication.
We still have wild oats to sow.

B to the R to the O to the N to the X

BX borough, known for keeping it thorough.

X is for the xenophobes that try to
asphyxiate the strength in our family ties,
not knowing they fueled the fires…

The Bronx is no longer burning,
but our hearts are still ablaze.
Traded boom boxes for soap boxes,
and we have something to say.
*The opinions and ideas expressed are solely those of the author, and may not reflect the opinions of The Bronx Brand*

Meriam Rodriguez grew up on 156th & Trinity Ave. Living in the Bronx has allowed her to have a unique cultural experience where there was little segregation. Growing up, the Latino and black community were so
blended that she never realized how different it was in the rest of the world. There is an authenticity that allows us to connect differently and become friends within minutes. Despite our collective struggle we have preserved the ability to stay real.

Follow Meriam on Instagram: @i.write.ny