I am from one dot in the sky, from gravels and ripe starfruit I am from the crowded housing complex I am from the scent of jasmine, the guava tree I am from reading stories and round face,
Where I'm From
I am from a calabash, from marbles and cotton wrappers. I am from the rainy plains. I am from the guava tree, the palm oil plantation. I am from the tales by moonlight and singing choruses,
I am from the rough-hewn earthen water jug with the broken handle, from scuttling fiddler crabs and cloudy coconut vinegar stored in recycled whiskey bottles.
I am from fuel wood so heavy From sticks and trees now hard to come by I am from the once pristine countryside I am from the fast vanishing streak of teak trees The earth it binds still.
I am from the mango orchards, the fruit of summer from that old mud house and dusty lanes. I am from the undulating paddy fields, and the vast yellow wheat plains.
I am from the pail of water, from wooden dolls and rice balls. I am from the mud hut by the river.