My body tells a mysterious history
of an island and a mixed people.
Whisper to the voice of my temple,
and it shall reveal the origins of this soul.
The rounded taino face spells tranquility and docility,
with sad sleepy eyes piercing into your cacique heart.
Full succulent lips sucking on that ripened mango,
jolts images of an ashanti empress divine in her being.
Smooth, mellowing olive epidermis has been crafted,
with the drops of euro-tyranny and afri-slavery,
sprinkled with the spice of Bombay and
creamed with bellows of German merchantmen. Ayeeeee!!!
Curly soft kinky locks derived from the backra massa
and his concubine mistress…Yes, for my European
daddy raped my African mommy in the bed of history
and she bled me into life as I know it today.
Who tells me the tale of my being but myself?
An island mulatto, creolized and historized…