Foundation

I call this my foundation

To makeup artist it’s the groundwork to blurring imperfections

But I want y’all to see clearly that perfection doesn’t exist

Because inside these blue painted walls while we’re blessed to be alive

To the rest of the world, our being doesn’t exist

I’ve built a strong relationship with these structures

To the refugee camp in Ghana, we were birth between civil wars filled with bloody red and uncivilized governments filled with greedy green

It was just my mother and I

But it took a village to raise this child

Labelled my people as animals then wondered how a jungle can act this wild

Mama would always say “no weapon formed against me shall prosper” that’s why you and I were created to withstand anything

Covered with galvanized steel, with intentions of never being able to rust but honestly that ultimately gave you character

Just like my skin being made up of three layers of brown with intentions of never getting hurt but these scars ultimately gave me character

Because it shows

Though we have been weathered down today by grey clouds, we have hope of the yellow sun shining up tomorrow

That’s why we’ve always stayed strong

I’m sorry I didn’t appreciate you enough

They called it displacement

But they don’t know what this place meant

We called it home

Never had much to give but always managed to assist

No kitchen but mama made food so good that would put you to sleep just so dream of it

No bathroom inside but we took baths outside so the world could see how clean we were

Despite how most see our natural appearance as dirt brown

It is fine, cause aren’t we all formed of dust from the ground ?

Can’t you see these how these structures and I are one ?

When I tell them my story, they call it trauma, but we called it normal

Cause growing up I thought we had it good but in reality, I just had nothing to compare it to

Since then, I have lived at seven other places and none of them are comparable

From buildings in the projects where every brick represented another lost soul

To temporary suburbs where I had to be three times as great to make myself feel whole

But all these places taught me how to shoot for the stars even if I had no goal

People often ask me “do you still remember?”

And I often think to myself “I wish I had the chance to forget”

But this is not a chance to regret

So, I respond with “yes, I do … a little”

But it seems

Like all I have are dreams and pictures of scenes

That I’m trying to piece together to figure out what all this means

One of saddest part is

This place I once called home, died a long time ago, it is no longer considered our safe zone

So, forgive me for trying to make its death feel welcoming like making mausoleums to create something beautiful

I didn’t ask for this life

But if I had a choice

I wouldn’t ask for another

Because even though our conditions weren’t the best and our language has always been broken

Who’s to say being broken isn’t beautiful