The Cycle

From this earth I emerged
All wild haired and slanted eyes
A conjuring of the women who laid
Their souls bare for existence
Who bled their being into my veins
I came forth bearing an inherent attitude
that was cultivated
In the concrete streets of East Trenton
Full of hoagies, penny candy and hopscotch
Corner stores and playground battles

But here I stand
In my mother’s mother’s mother’s land
Watered by these memories
Sunned by my history
I am plotted here
The roots digging into the soil
Under my feet
Reaching back to those who came before me