Fourth & Issaquena Poem by Curtis Johnson

Fourth & Issaquena
by Curtis Johnson

The county seat, a place of humidity and musical beats.
After many years, I decided to revisit my hometown,
Hoping to walk down memory lanes of warm treats Known by many as the birthplace of the blues
It’s where my folks purchased my first pair of shoes
Where I first experienced talking from a phone booth
Where I experienced my first barbershop
Where I received my first real job
Where I ate at my first restaurant
Where I saw my first movie
A street corner, fourth & Issaquena
Northern Mississippi, The City of Clarksdale
Cotton gins and cotton bails
Yes, cotton was crowned king
And everyone bowed, even queens
To my amazement and disappointment, I never dreamed that Issaquena would be found in such poor condition. So when I arrived, I beheld what looked to me like a ghost town. I knew that it was clearly Issaquena, not just because her name was on the street sign, but so much of my young life was spent going and coming across Issaquena where it ends at Fourth Street. I could never forget her, but I must regretfully say that the spirit and soul of the Issaquena I once knew were long gone.
Issaquena seemed as if she was on life support at best, and at her worst it appeared she had been frozen in another time period for many years. My heart was filled with sadness for what once had been a haven for people full of color and energy. I could not simply look the other way, so I spoke to Issaquena the best way I knew how. With words I had never planned, I was compelled to say:

Hello Issaquena:
I have not seen you in such a long time
We arrived last night after running just a little behind
By the time we checked into the motel, it was way past nine
I came today to share a memorable experience just one more time
I came to look around, to visit, to stare, or even an old friend to find
Many years ago there was so much about you that became a friend of mine
I remember when people came to your intersection standing under your street sign.
People from miles around came to talk, share, and care, to shop, sit awhile and dine.
Some people after a long and laborious week simply came to drink whisky and wine.
And I also remember a bench on which sat a Christian lady so divine.
She would come to your corner every Saturday, so loving and kind.
She spent the day sharing Christ with all who would listen.
I am sure the dear Christian Lady is now in heaven.
O Issaquena. Your shelters are beaten down and everything around you causes me to frown.
I am so sorry. But I know that the thought of you will always be around.
O Issaquena. Can you please tell me how they managed to disenfranchise your claim to fame?
And how did you become bound in those chains with the looks of a portrait in pain?
O Issaquena. What happened to the barber shop where I use to come for hair cuts?
Where is the Phone Booth on the corner where I use to make land line phone calls?
Where is the grocery store down the street where my dear mother use to shop for food?
The Picture Show where my dad use to take us every Monday night is gone.
The best hamburger shop where my dad took us to eat after a movie is also gone.
I shall miss it dearly, because the taste of her burgers was the best that I have ever known.
And whatever became of the Abe May Shoe Store where I got my first job when I was a teen? It too is gone. O Issaquena. Where did they all go? I really would like to know.