My Story

My voice tells a story of two lands divided by an ocean

Of a past forgotten embedded into my every cell

That causes words to thicken with excitement or nervousness

My eyes remembers a land with uncontrollable greens and red roads

Memoirs of bloodshed and peace told in every speck of dust

My hands are a legacy of strength to uphold a nation and love to nurture others

Meant to craft and destroy, build and pull down, to lead many to come

My spirit is a canvas painted by the hands of the LORD, completed

Introduced to me by my parent from the age of my birth

My mouth is a culinary book filled with pages of cultural food

I remember a house ruled by laughter shared by families and friends

A house that was my home, the first home given to me, but not my last

I have not forgotten, nor will I forget the story of my people, the place of my origin

Now, I am in a country that is overjoyed in its sense of freedom

Buildings and man-made objects create a strangely organized metal jungle

Winter is a harsh giant so different from the warmth of yesterday

Sounds of car horns replace the sound of nature during the night

But since my first experience, it has become my second home