Not long back

embers danced

under my skin

my eyes were wild jewels

from an ancient forest.

Strangers praised

my toes

my hair curled and beckoned

like a dark waist

doing the samba.

This is true

the way heads turned

and paths opened,

comfortable in my

color of Angolan earth

letting sun fall

on bare shoulders

while bangles slid silver

m’bira sounds down to delicate wrists,

Bangalore incense dangling

between fingers, I devoured languages

maps, long flights and dinners with strangers.

Mojitos

manicures

dreams and impenetrable sisterhood

wielding our words like magic wands

believing that sincere colours

and strong will could turn

the world right side up.

I used to glow with

community, Diaspora radiant under our skin

we walked determined

to leave beauty

for our children.

We were the children

being reborn.

II.

Utilities companies

did not take kindly

to finding poems

in their windowed

envelopes

lovers stumbled from

each others’ beds

with finality

sisters found knives

in their purses and backs

the country found safety

in the arms of another war

I died a little.

I grew wings.

I sweat when I dream now

but still believe

the spell of right words,

strong hands

and circles

I, We used to glow

and sometimes,

when we unlearn ceilings

and run our fingers

through the sky,

we still do.