Things Big and Small (The Seed from Which I Grew):
Brownstones boiling beneath scorching sun,
Bring me back, to when this place belonged to me
A time when wheels thundered, a speed, never seen; when life had just begun
And Liberty bowed down, on hands and on knees, then offered the key
To all of humanity’s finest creations: 1 dollar pizza slice gilded with grease
And boomboxes, blasted, through cracked car windows. Shattered by nothing. Rivaled only
By the shrieking of sirens, the seasonal Mister Softee, and the honking, of horns or of geese,
Which huddle on the shores of Harlem’s meer, never lonely
Bounded by breadcrumbs and the bonds that they share
A beauty which most will never know. How lucky am I?
The inheritor of all this? This city, it bleeds you, sometimes without care
And yet, I still swear, I am the richest in the world. Big Apple of my eye
Raised from smog curtained skies, I click my heels thrice and I’m home
No matter how long nor how far I have flown, for I am the product of seeds, long sown.
Sheila Verkaik (she/they/he) is a fourth-year student of modern history and creative writing at SUNY Purchase. Originally from Harlem, their work is often inspired by their New York City upbringing, the world around them, and the past. Recently, Sheila has been taking an interest in her Dutch heritage and citizenship and has endeavored to start learning Dutch. Upon graduation, he hopes to continue his education in the Netherlands.