Roots

Roots

Are the foundation of

The tree of life.


My roots?

They keep me grounded

But they’re buried

Deep, deep down.


Below the surface

Of courteous smiles and excessive politeness,

Behind the facade

Of code switching and perceived ‘whiteness’,

Between the lines

Of inaccurate history books about the lifeless

Peeks through a vibrant array of patriotic petals.


In full bloom they tear through the dirt

Through the mud

And the crap

And the lies

And the hurt

And they dazzle passers by.


My roots are curly

My roots are coiled

My roots are vibrant

But my roots are soiled

By misconceptions and ignorance

That persist without my control.


Oceans crossed

Lives lost

Politicians fear to calculate the cost

Of what it takes to be accepted,

And how it feels to be rejected.


We

The new generation

Are the gardeners of revolution.


We

Plant the seeds

And reap the fruits of change.


So when We chew

And

We gulp

And

We ask if you’re with us,

When you take your first bit you’ll think

Isn’t change delicious?



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Racines Elles sont le fondement de L'arbre de la vie. Mes racines? Elles me maintiennent au sol Mais sont enterrées Profond, très profond, Sous la surface De sourires courtois et de politesse excessiv