Me and My Identity

This is a poem that I wrote for a Black history month event in October 2012. And in a nutshell it describes me, my understanding of me-ness and who I am as a young Black woman (well one of the elements, there are many more that I would like to explore)...

 

Tropical heat kisses me with a warmth that’s new to me

It whispers smooth melodies welcoming me to my home

And taking a deep breath I do feel at home

Like the prodigal son returning to his birth home

Stepping out of the plane

 I smile and I smell an air so sweet

And I hear conversations and tongues dancing to a calypso beat

I see a vista of people so beautiful it overwhelms my expectations

Awakening me from a state of heritage starvation 

My parental kinsfolk equals my people

Excluding them makes me feel partial

Eye crowds search me with curiosity

And I feel I am at a place I was always meant to be

Shouting out are shouts of ecstasy

Kissable lips brushing me

Blissfulness surrounding me

I am no longer an island absentee

Separation of years washed away with gleeful tears

And necklace hugs eagerly consume me

Snugly I embrace the skin to face

I sigh a relief of something lost now found

Reunited finally to my family

I have come to a land my parents spoke about

They dreamed great dreams about

Speaking of childhood tales of laughter laughed about

And shedding tears as things became a distant memory

Like kids sitting in the veranda sipping hot coco tea

Or carving dolls out of the mango seed

And beware of the obea who lived in the bush next door

When you go out to pee at night in the pit out the back door

This lands culture it’s embedded into mine

It’s formed a complete uniqueness that’s all mine

I am forcefully claiming my identity

Optimistically hoping that they’ll accept me 

Lifelong I have lived in the realm of sub and co cultures

And I am content with all the elements that make up me

I am British I am Grenadian

And I feel like I have been here before
 

In my dreams it was me catching crayfish down in the raven

And liming for hours on end dipping in the endless rivers, lakes and seas

My arm hurts from beating the co co in the iron pot

And my feet sting with ant bites from running bare foot

I’ve jumped out the truck with my cousin and his cutlass

Chasing the manicou into the deep dark bush

J’Ouvert morning it was me covered in mud doing the jump up

Next day savouring the juices of the mango and soursup

I have created my own memories

I am thankful for the opportunities

I have been awaken from a state of heritage starvation

I am no longer an island absentee

My Grenada it is my isle of spice







Copyright © 2012 Sonneteer Articulates (aka Traysi Matthew, Traysi Speaks)
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