Promised To Return Poem by Frank Bana

New York still in sunlight
In the one world century
I can see it all
From my 14th floor
The hidden blue tribune flowing
By the flags of nations
That our histories hoist high
And from metal poles remove

Is it too much that you ask of me
To justify my work in money
And show meaning from it too?
As if a living soul will care
About anything I do
Once the billions depart
And surviving souls pass by

Music was made in churches here
Pagan songs and poetry
Down this river you could smell the blood
Taste the dust-storm of exploding flesh
Watch the smoke rising by day
Waiting for music to be born again

The helicopters sortie
In solitude I see them fly
Trapped here in the passing years
The rooftops emptied out below
While the blossom leaves of Tudor Park
Grow and fall
Fall and grow

I call to every circumstance
For this you do not need me
I was not born be held here
In the cradle of this city
I call for you set me loose
From these ruled and empty lines
Set me loose upon the world
Where I promised to return.