Silent Neighborhoods Across New York

By Maiesha Muntaki & Maria Alejandra Barrios Vélez

A poem about our two neighborhoods in New York and our experiences inhabiting the city in our own particular lenses.

Corona Avenue

If I were to tell you about my neighborhood 
I would tell you about my dad, 
Before moving to the neighborhood 
I could see him being so cautious
I learned
I don’t need to know every neighbor 
I used to think a neighborhood is supposed to be a community
But maybe I had the wrong idea
It’s not all that bad
There’s not always talk among the neighbors
The least bit of words we exchange with each other
Are the “goodnight’s” and “have a good day’s” in the elevator 
There’s a large park right next to my apartment
Its spaciousness isn’t its only specialty
There are trees all around in order
and the center of it is the big circular field
even if it’s only human-made nature
it makes me feel serene
with that there’s even a pool
that comes to life during the summer
everyone, including kids, swim there
But I always wished the pool wasn’t coed
with that there’s a space for soccer, basketball, and tennis
The kids would sometimes quarrel over the game
or cheer for scoring 
Been to this park a couple of times
Saw new faces every time
Probably because I can’t ever get to familiarize
The faces that pass me by. 

My favorite place in my neighborhood
Is the library where
I borrow my favorite graphic books
There are stores in front of my building 
But I’ve barely gone to every one of them
I had this thought that kids in a neighborhood became friends easily
But after moving to this neighborhood I realized
It’s the opposite
Been here for four years
But never have I made a neighborhood friend each year.

It’s safe to walk around the neighborhood at night
But I remember my mom being cautious 
while walking through the dark streets
While walking through my neighbodhood’s streets
Most are walking and minding their business
Few men are listening to Spanish music and chatting
The beautiful roses in the summer are always vibrant 
If a Muslim is passing by 
I would receive an instant salam
That I barely get to reply back
Few balconies are bright, shiny, and sparkly around Christmas
giving out the message that it’s time for celebration.

During summer days 
along with bearing the heat
I’d hear the kids from my room
every summer day
I like my neighborhood the way it is
I might not see the attachment to my neighborhood
But all the little bits and pieces 
I know of my neighborhood
are just what makes living here
comforting.

I wish my neighborhood was more of a community
Where 
Neighbors know each other well
They celebrate together
They cope together
The silence wouldn’t be so encompassing,
What I wish for the most is
a big family neighborhood. 


Fort Greene 

If I were to tell you about my neighborhood
I would tell you about the trees:
Old, wise, resilient with great deep roots that stick to the land never to let go,
I would tell you about the wind that hits the window on sleepless nights
and the car sounds, music, sirens, reggaeton that wakes us up—
The moving trucks, the recycling trucks, and the infinite glass-shattering sounds,
I would tell you about loneliness,
about walking and not knowing,
about walking and not talking,
no questions, no curiosity,
no one to talk back and no one to listen,

I would tell you about the wagging tails of dogs and
   the children sledding on hills on the rare day of snow,
I would tell you about their kindness,
and I would tell that no one is as lucky as the trees,
people with roots in this neighborhood and in this land,
are forced to go, 
are force to leave behind,
are forced to look away, 
are told to look away,
although they can’t,
although they dream to return,
although this neighborhood        my neighborhood, 
   might become a place they don’t recognize,
If I were to show my neighborhood,
I could tell you about all the places that feel mine,
   at least for now. 

Performance

Process

Since we haven’t met in person, we thought it would be interesting to tell each other about our neighborhoods in a poem so we both could picture our worlds.