My ancestors tell me to..

Sing like Celia and Ziggy

dance letting the music fill my soul

be free

be that warrior woman with the machete

fight like Bob and Cesar

my ancestors tell me to...

embrace my beauty

love the creativity radiating through your pores

be free

we support you

let your heart be your guide

we will cover you

we will catch you

my ancestors tell me to...

don't worry about the future

the creator has that covered

all you have to do is breathe

breathe in confidence

breathe in strength

breathe in wisdom

open the door to the creator

shut it for no one

channel your peace

being who you really are

get in touch with your core

happiness will be unwavering





I come and go back

to the eyes

that talk to me

they look like mine

but i do not remember

she has a fire

i long to touch

i long to devour

to become one with her

to reach back

behind my eyes

i feel her

she tries to speak to me

reforms as the warrior within

the tiger with a murmur

waiting for her chance to growl

I see a sparkle

but so faint

she is there reaching

she is there teaching

she is there manifesting

she is there

i can no longer ignore

I am ready to soar

I am ready for my revival

I am ready for my upheaval

but I must return to her

I must reconnect

to my younger spirit

I must praise God she never left

I must thank the heavens

for this divine reunion

to step into the power

destined for only me

the force that she was privy to see

the strength only she can bring

i must return

i must unlearn

all the things that kept her far from me

listening to the words of God whispering

the revelation will not be televised

i must return




When you ask me where I come from

I must speak of broken things

I must speak of my kintsugi

Broken plans

Early arrivals

Broken promises

Forever fighting

Broken stoops

By gentrification dreams

Broken hearts

Broken starts

Broken and stolen lands

Broken and calloused hands

Portmore and Kingston sings

Of streets my ancestors breathed



Cuba Motherland

Stolen stripped and rebranded

Strong Colonizer hand

Where I come from

is broken things

Grandma's heart

Grandfather's ears

Mother's childhood

Father's past

Where I come from

is broken things

Mama's future

Her dreams live on in me

Not without a share of jealousy

Papi's passion

Oozes from my pores

Birthday present not wasted


blossoming from palm

flourishing through the broken tear-drenched faces

Grandma's spirit

Raging within these bones

Fighter she is

now and forevermore

Watch out for what's in store

Witness the power

Impossible to deny her roar

Warrior in pink

Warrior in Jamaican jungle print

Impossible to deny my roar
her echo
her legacy
changing the past
into beautiful kintsugi
into aches
as a phoenix, i rise

When you ask me where I come from

I must speak of broken things

But God has taken the broken pieces

Mended them with his light

Guided their steps righteous

Into a masterpiece

priceless to behold



"Poetry is an orphan of silence. The words never quite equal the experience behind them."