Winter 96’: Them Kerosene Heaters

Winter ’96: Them Kerosene Heaters

Winter 96, Three black young brothers trapped in the cold,
Philly’s frost biting deep, this is my story untold,
My Two little brothers beside me, fighting the night,
Kerosene flames flicker, our only light.

Hood life, survival, a tightrope walk,
Colin’s tears frozen, Tristan’s silent talk,
No heat in the house, just cold concrete,
But in the kerosene’s glow, our spirits meet.

Windows frosted, breaths in the air,
Blankets piled high, love in our stare,
Winter ’96, coldest I remember,
Huddled close, trying to forget December.

Mama with her new husband , dad living with his hoes which I hate,
We dream of heat, of a warmer fate,
But this is Philly, where the streets are mean,
Surviving off hope and kerosene.

The heater’s hum, a lullaby in the dark,
While outside, the world seems so stark,
In these shadows, we carve out light,
Black boys with NFL dreams through the longest night.

The struggle’s a beast, but we stand tall,
In this cold, we find the warmth of all,
Brothers bond, a fire that never quits,
Through the frost of life, we make our hits.

Fifteen black, and still standing strong,
In the heart of winter, where we belong,
Philly’s streets can’t freeze our souls,
We burn with dreams, in the coldest coals.

Winter ’96, a testament to our fight,
In the hood’s embrace, we ignite,
Kerosene heaters, our midnight sun,
In the cold, we survive, that battle we definitely won.

⁃   Basheer Umar Pemberton