I am from
I am from the darkness of Africa ,
imaginary drums that
Beat in the night- dry heat that shimmers off the Veldt at
Noon day- the concrete jungle that rises out of the
grasslands
And mine dumped hills of the wide Transvaal .
I am from the whiteness of old British rule, the practical
Prejudice of orthodox Dutch ancestry that loved this wild
Untamable land.
I am from my mother’s oasis, a smiling dimpled boy
Protected from oppression and cruelty by the high walls
And razor wire fences of my urban home.
I am from the sanctuary of green hills of my adopted
Homeland, the red clay which gets under the fingernails
While playing games with my brother in the shade.
I am from innocence and wonder and books
The piano I was forced by belt to play those old songs.
I am from unknown religion, Sunday morning meetings in
Houses of friends who were strangers to me.
I am from prayers of separation and dinner at the table
From the Kentucky-fried friend food believing in our God
Over those of the others.
I am from dreamy winters of snow filled holidays
Eating chocolate cake hot from my mother’s cookbooks.
I am from the corner of the schoolyard because I talked
funny,
Couldn’t run right and crying when I got angry because they
Rejected me and made fun of as well.
I am from the fear of being abandoned in crowds by my
brother,
The bliss of my father’s rollercoaster wild side,
The comfort of my mother’s loving hands which crafted
My imagination with word-smithing and painted serenades
Out into the ever widening world.
I am from the darkness of the past, the shadows around the
present and the threat and promise of the future.
I am from such secrets that are hidden away in sock drawers
Squirreled inside the memory of trees
Left under a desperate man’s mattress
Not wanting to be revealed for who he is but what he had
wanted to be.
I am from an idea and a wish
But it is not all that makes me or directs me to be
I am who I decide to be although I will not forget,
I will not forget where I am from.
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