I am from a cup of tea,
From milk and sugar.
I am from the wooden doors my father made by hand, tall, strong, glossy.
I am from the figs growing on concrete,
And the spinach growing on wood.
I am from eggnog on christmas
And round faces,
From uncle sunny
and ivy lynn and gertrude.
I am from the loud conversation
And vague descriptions .
From big feet
and long legs.
I am from good intentions.
From listening to understand and not listening to respond.
I’m from the city that never sleeps and the sweet island of Jamaica,
Salt fish, ackee and breadfruit.
From my parents who moved from warm tropics to winter snow,
The coconut water turned soda,
And fresh fruit turned canned.
I am from the photobook on the nightstand with Jamaican dollars used as bookmarks.