Detroit Never Left

 In Detroit, we wear our cracks like crowns.

Our broken-down buildings are world-renowned

due to glorified ruin pornography, 

I mean, “urban exploration photography.”

This incomplete iconography

has become inured in our nation’s psychology

as the perfect picture of the dilapidated motor city,

framed, of course, to sit real pretty

within the crisp, white edges 

of suburban committees. 

Foreclosure signs look like gospel flyers

for the young, white saviors

dressed as gentrifiers. 

When New York becomes too pricey,

this midwestern spot will do just nicely.

What’s one more ton of artists

starving on trust funds? 

In the last decade, it’s incredible 

the number of Christian evangelicals

who’ve had unrelated epiphanies

that this city is in dire need

of their spiritual expertise, 

their hands and their feet. 

Their self-sanctified “sacrifice” 

solves only their personal life crisis. 

They see their half-hearted rescue attempts

as rare bits of beauty amidst the ashes,

as they attempt to re-resurrect the risen phoenix.

Detroit is back! It’s the new black!

Come rediscover this never-before-uncovered gem!

Thanks to the Rocket Mortgage bankers, 

the millennial missionaries, 

and heedless home takers, 

the soul of the city is now out on the streets

uprooted, outbid, forgotten, and hid. 

The newcomers now ashamed

of our authenticity and grit.

Detroit doesn’t need your pity

nor your heart for its city.

We don’t need you to transplant 

where we’ve already planted, 

our roots long reaching 

deep down in the ground.

The pride and pain of our past 

is what powers our present growth

and fuels our future hope.

You can’t make this city yours

without first embracing its history — 

what was, what is, and what will be,

without any credit to you or me.