How I Have Lived And Thrived In My Parent's Nice Front Yards Poem by RIC BASTASA

how i have lived and thrived in my parent's front yard
handed to us through generations,
i call it luck
inheritance of comforts and style
but soon
i get tired and i have become one
meaningless arrogance
away from everyone, so i have decided to go somewhere
in the lines of my poetry
now in poverty of spirit
with so much humility
i offer some lines on some meter and forms of
repentance,
i'll go away, take the exit doors of this luxury
and try to see the backyards
of everything i have not seen i have not gone to

i see some tattered clothes
of tenancies, i feel their tremblings
in hunger, i hear the gnashing of their teeth,
i feel the shaking of their feet,
i think of what they have been conceiving
all these years
i have talked to them
in their hunger

to compensate for their lack
they will teach me about their revolution
i will hear them
in this backyard
i will join them

my ancestors will cry and disown me
i will give them rebirth
create them a new name

time shall judge, who wins?