When I look at myself I see

Harlem reflected back at me

A great city with

A great history

When I look at myself, I see the roads I have traveled

To get here, and though they took a while,

In the map of wrinkles in my face

They are long, but lead to a smile

When I look at myself,

In the dark pool of my eye,

I see all of my memories,

And let out a sigh,

Because when I look at myself,

Crippled with pain and age,

I see all of Harlem’s hurt

All of Harlem’s rage

When I look at myself,

Though I may be old and frail,

I see how Harlem has risen up

To help itself, its people

And how it has never failed

To make a home for everyone,

No matter who they are, or what they may be

How it has pushed aside its feelings to make everyone a place

And that is what I see, when I look inside of me