Where I’m From
BY TERÉ FOWLER-CHAPMAN
Occupied to hold an odom land
Chucks on
Sit still on my mouth like a sawarto in deep thought
The sun beats in
Like a hard-hardened mother beats thickness into silence
Before seething about the same lesson for the last time
Says, here, the coolness of water is a privilege
Quench down the wall of your throat the sweat
Downpour
From the inside out as a reminder
Here, I give you what is left
Sunlight
Sunshine
A heat that cooks supper on empty road by noon
If it feels disrespectful
It’s because I’m disrespected
Here, the migrant walking with the belief of a freedom that doesn’t believe in them
Is believing in a monsoon that is all dried up
Like the adoil
That once believed in abundance, too
Here, would a black body drops into this land for the last time
A haboob rises the ash from the earth and carries them home
Mi amigo, lo siento
Here, the meats of an aloe plant scrubs what burns so good from the tip of your tongue
If you begin to listen as well as you speak, Teré
Mountains become montañas
Water becomes agua
And abuelita calls you mijo before the transition even begins
Here, you are home or you are hunting
Es tu elección, mijo
It is your choice, son