Where are you from?
I’m from a field of flowers, "exotic," you say,
Yet they bloomed here long before your ships found the bay.
Where are you from?
I’m from the winds that carried your sails to shore,
From the ground that whispered, “Take what is ours no more.”
Where are you from?
I’m from the land where you planted your flag with glee,
Thinking the truth we would never see.
Where are you from?
I’m from a history you rewrote with your lies,
But it still lives on in all of our eyes.
Where are you from?
I’m from the hope you buried deep,
From resilience that woke from the longest sleep.
Where are you from?
I’m from everywhere you’ve never cared to explore,
From the edge of your comfort and just a little more.
Where are you from?
I’m from the scent of spices your tongue cannot place,
From recipes you claimed, erasing my face.
Where are you from?
I’m from the colours you called too loud, too bold,
Yet they wrapped me in warmth as your world turned cold.
Where are you from?
I’m from here, I’m from there, from places unseen,
But mostly, I’m from the space between your question and my dreams.
