Roots

If I could... just see my roots

Those nappy, twisted, kinked up roots

If I knew whose blood fed my roots

Those potato-salad-thick, rich, roots

If only someone could teach me about my roots

Error 404: No historical literature found on my roots

Am I an orphan with roots, dead and shriviled like bacon?

My ma' said a tree can’t grow fruit without deep roots

Taken, stolen, hidden are my roots

But present in my hips, hair, and lips, my roots

I may never know from where come my roots

History may not care for my roots

But, it can’t move, shake, or stop my roots

Here, digging in, growing deep, my roots

Muted shades of red, black, and green are my roots

Planted here but stretching long-ways back, my roots

Cross the deep blue sea to a land so distant,

Disconnected from me...

I say to the Great Red, White, and Blue:

"My roots, my roots, my roots,

Have a hold on You."