IMOGENE’S NOTEBOOK
Where I am From
A poem
I am from a land of folklore
of gods that danced and sang ballads
and goddesses that led armies, winning wars.
From temples etched in radical art
and Tamil poetry decorating the courtrooms.
I am from a time of no slumber
of a city drunk in dreams and jasmine fragrance
with trade routes, no streets
and a grandmother’s love, not just food
served in roadside respites.
I am from my mother’s old gold bangle
that tinkled to the crack of dawn,
the tempered spices it smelled of
and her soft hands stained in turmeric
weaving double braids out of my hair.
I am from my father’s Pinewood writing pad
his strong voice, the meticulous worries
and his books that my world could fit into,
his anger, and his fight,
all supplies in my survival kit for the future.
I am from the old metal trunk boxes
that smelled of rust and grey paint, peeled
for the places they had been
carrying lore, lost stationeries,
beautiful cricketers in squared-off magazine papers,
treasured ankle bells and
a scrapbook of smiles and astronaut pictures.
I am from a celebration of Earth
the monsoon winds, the petrichor,
muddy-tasting evening walks
and our beholden traditions,
for the brown tilth
that satiated our hunger
and decorated our skins.
I am from a paradox of culture
a scrimmage of notions
of beauty, of bias,
of the colour of the skin
but a kinship that still holds
because of the land and the love
that runs deeper.
Thank you, , for the wonderful poetry challenge inspired by “Where I’m From” by George Ella Lyons and for offering me this space to share my poetry.
