2/30 ~ Where I Come From
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
Ireland
Scotland
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
enjoyed
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
[2.apr.2020]
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