I am from Mud
From Crayola and Card Stock
I am from the hole of my Native village
Wide, wet, neck-high, and smothering
I am from hot, dusty land, restricting my taste
I am from Chain and Rope, that once saved my life,
Now, have left my sense of touch, hollow,
Twenty-three hours a day.
I am from "suck it up," to "don't bring me down,"
Humans confuse my sense of being
My Ears, palm leaves,
My Eyes, bottomless lakes fringed by grass
My Heart, beats, no drum can compare.
My Mind, my own,
My Feet, create mindless circles
I am from coos, clapping, oohs and aahs,
Surrounding my Mall performance
I am from Africa, six hundred pounds, born to the wild
Scrambling, pondering, shifting
My spirit, you try to break.
My sisters, my aunts, my cousins, my Mother
My Memories swaddle me.
I am from old friends, family, new playmates
Sadness and Mourning, my only pain.
Your stories sustain me
for
Quiet is Boring.
From Crayola and Card Stock
I am from the hole of my Native village
Wide, wet, neck-high, and smothering
I am from hot, dusty land, restricting my taste
I am from Chain and Rope, that once saved my life,
Now, have left my sense of touch, hollow,
Twenty-three hours a day.
I am from "suck it up," to "don't bring me down,"
Humans confuse my sense of being
My Ears, palm leaves,
My Eyes, bottomless lakes fringed by grass
My Heart, beats, no drum can compare.
My Mind, my own,
My Feet, create mindless circles
I am from coos, clapping, oohs and aahs,
Surrounding my Mall performance
I am from Africa, six hundred pounds, born to the wild
Scrambling, pondering, shifting
My spirit, you try to break.
My sisters, my aunts, my cousins, my Mother
My Memories swaddle me.
I am from old friends, family, new playmates
Sadness and Mourning, my only pain.
Your stories sustain me
for
Quiet is Boring.