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