Angry. Sassy. No!

Can't find my reflection anywhere.

I have to exist relating to chameleons mimicking me.

I once had to ask if being ghetto is a form of white-face.

How can I assimilate into myself?

I'm starting to wonder how far this appropriation goes. 

Did they steal the words from the mouths from my Griots
to write their way into significance? 

I'm coming for my images locked away in centuries of history. 

I'm told I don't belong in an Anywhere.

So, I'ma reach back and
slap the black back into the places between east vs west,
between continents which ignore my Mother,
between dialogues and discussions
that make her work at shaping existence insignificant.

We have progressed so far backwards.

Bragging about growing grass in the desert 

then complaining about being broke from bills.

We dig pools that grow stagnant without care
then slinging guilt for droughts.
I can't make sense of this thing I'm supposed to want to do

Those tied to the earth had their head and hearts in the cosmos.

They found healing in the weeds.
They never touched the same flowing waters twice.

I've noticed how natural living is enslaved

like those of the middle passage; they are

chained to greed, dehumanized, and made to fight for freedom.

My ancestor's magic locked in stores where her children can't reach. 

I have become my own conjurer.

And I invoke my reflection in these words. 

My ancestors never stepped into the same being twice.