Little Delicious has the best ackee and saltfish
I've had so far in this city
I have many more
On my list of Philly's Jamaican restaurants
In my attempts to recreate my mother's comfort
To deepen my connection to a
Nation whose culture runs through me
Yet it's still not quite my own
I've traveled to that island many times
It feels homier than home
But it's not
It never was
Family friends were my childhood community
Rich tethers to the land of sorrel, oxtail, manish water, and fever grass tea
I inhabited another dimension
In which I lived simultaneously
With perogie-loving Delco
To whom I had a lot of explaining to do
Along with dispelling, sweetening, clarifying, placating, filtering, denying
All the ings
Too many
It wasn't until I returned to West Philly as an adult
That I began to have regular contact with
Other members of my diaspora
Outside of people I knew through my parents
I wait in line at Quality Taste
With Ting in hand, hoping to finally see drops
Planning the next time I'll create that blessing of
Coconut, ginger, and brown sugar
I'm no extraterrestrial here
Though that hyphen makes a difference
But now I have access, which begats choice
In these places of respite, and exploration
Where I can recharge a part of me
That was a little bit starved
For an awfully long time
YOU ARE READING
Welcome to the Sky
PoezjaAnother collection of random poems I've recorded as they came to me. Please vote and comment on the entries that resonated with you. I'd love to hear your thoughts :)
