Culture and cuisine, music and memory. We bring out stories, our foods, our tenderness and our prayers to new lands and overseas. Ancestors and history woven together in new and different ways, strung from the same shared thread.
Read from these palms, oil palms, recited psalms bring us together when we feel alone and afraid in the world. A spine severed in severe calamity.
How can you be mad at me? We share the same heart and mentality. We care about our communities and your prosperity, our neighbor.
How we eat, how we dress, how we make a mess, how we love may be different. My nose might be slightly wider, that smell might be slightly sweeter too you.
Lost in translations, as we translate through turbid monstrosities. We get up when we are knocked down. Sand castles wash away, as you and I will eventually cease to be. But, there in history. We can reach deep into the tides and retrieve your roots, deep and endless.
Those tides turn and may buckle to entirety, the web is massive and continues endlessly. We’re here and now and I see the look in your eyes regardless of the contracts that dull your vision but not your shine.
Crimes were committed, locked up without redemption. Caged and incarcerated, barely any window only bars. Packaged and shipped, neatly wrapped, sent with the prime directive of dictating lines and what is mine. Scavenged and secured, melody seeps in through open pores. Dripping through discarded demarcations and devastation to tell you that you’re not alone.
I’ll show up at your door when you need a friend. When you’re home alone, but you have no where to roam, I can bring you prairies and prayers to sow new seeds. When the deed has been done , you’ll find that you longer have run from vicious minds and cereal crimes.
We have all have hands to hold, and futures to mold for our families, our children, and legacies to unfold. There is recollection that our journeys have been long and tumultuous, yet we build our promise lands with our bare hands and sweat built on brows.
Every human, every culture struggles and strives. As humans we manage to survive in the most inhospitable habitats, and learn to circumscribe circumstance.
There will always be power structures at play, new players to the game. What will remain is the thumping of that solitary heart beat, a bass drum meant to repeat. What will remain is when our hands meet. When new love is found in eye light , or a community delights in their sovereignty. Music and bread bind us such that shackles find no security near you and me.