Ancestral Arrival

I am a child of the village
raised higher than hands in worship
I am the deep baritone of deacons
whose skin could teach bronze a thing or two

I am tall, wild grass
taller than tattle tales told between siblings
I am kin to the wind
cousins with the riptides hidden under doo rags

I am coffee with cream and sugar spilled onto African Rosewood
closer to you than the new growth under your braids
I am necessary as your house slippers
I am your ancestor

Imagine a Triceratops
I am the horns upon her face
I am the crown of bone adorning her head
I am her massive body

I am a Triceratops
not a killer, but don’t push me
I come from people who refuse to live as prey
I require research to understand

study carefully, understand?

Photograph: self-portrait of author.