The Fist of Detroit
There is a fist that hangs suspended in the middle of a city, a symbol, a pastime, always there for when we need it most. People pass by, cars are a blur, but still standing is the first of the city, a rock in the center of town. Most of us take it for granted, knowing it will be there tomorrow, and the next day, but it is the symbol of our strength, our resilience, our pride. The fist is a symbol to all the outsiders, the ones that doubt us, that we are still standing here, strong, unwavering.