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Where I'm From

I am from green grass,
from the gentle sun and childhood memories.
I am from family game nights,
from losing and then pretending to win.
I am from the dazzling raspberry bushes,
the lone, wooden birdhouse and the bee stings.

I'm from the basketball hoop,
from the bloody bruises and broken bones.
I'm from swimming laps and breaking records,
from dry skin and the permanently strong
smell of chlorine on my body.
I'm from playing ghost in the graveyard,
from bonfires and stargazing on clear summer nights.

I'm from savory fried plantain and stealing
my favorite golden dumplings before they're done.
I'm from fresh mangos that taste like juicy yellow pieces
of heaven and zesty callaloo from the garden.
I'm from polite manners and church on Sundays,
from stories of Jamaica and living by the ocean in paradise,
from living with tight-knit family to look up to.

I am from these moments,
from a place that is only true to me.
I am from a place like a chapter is from a book.
I am from a place like a plant is from its roots,
from a place that is irreversible—a place
to be proud of.




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