guyana gold

I was told guyana is rich in gold

it’s in the quiet mornings and still nights
when the choir of crickets and mysterious creatures
sing to me hello and whisper to me goodnight

it’s in the kids I teach
miss! miss! miss!
is there health club today?
god, i love their little faces

it’s in the warm bake
the ones that grandma makes
fresh from her over
sweet, soft, and salty

it’s in the forest of coconut trees
the black mirrored rivers
something I’ve never seen

it’s in the days I have to myself
to read and cook
quietly alone in my little home

it’s in practicing peace and contentment
mastering the art of doing nothing
relax you poor american
allow yourself to be ok with boredom

it’s in the calls I get
the letters, emails, and care packages
friendly reminders that I’m loved and remembered

it’s in the friends I’ve made
the fun times we’ve had
dancing and drinking
laying in beds gaffing
sleepovers and game nights
cookouts and cricket

it’s in the stars
I had never seen so many
the galaxy shining so clearly
the universe wrapped around me

it’s in the process of unlearning
letting go of a past self
embracing who I am now
entering a world different than mine
learning to appreciate it
respect it
equally as my own

it’s in what I’ve seen
what I’ve touched
what I’ve felt
what I don’t understand
what I can’t explain

it’s in the reasons I’ve stayed
the reasons I’ve grown
the reasons I’ve changed

I found my guyana gold
and I’ll never be the same.


Sometimes I wonder
What if the story had been written the other way?
Where I, the woman, was spoken to first
The man created from my side to be my helper
The one who broke heaven in a single bite
‘you dumb man, can’t you do anything right?’

Would you then understand what it feels like to be second, below, under, behind?
Would you finally feel the fear that I walk with at night?
Would you be the downfall of all of humanity?

Or would you still get praise from the world?
An applause for sinking you teeth into things that aren’t yours

It is said you are the protector, but to me
you are the predator

I have been a victim
more than once
of your rights and your ways
that let you dance on my dignity
like a stampede of disgusted beasts

Yes, you
You see and you want
You want and you touch
You touch and it is my fault

It is sick.

The color of my skin, the structure of my face, my origin, my organs within
it shouldn’t feel like a prison or a place I can’t escape
It is not an item on the shelf
it is not the blame for anyone’s mistake

my body is a sanctuary
built of pure, divine femininity
built for my brilliance and my beauty
my intelligence and my integrity

my body is my body
your patriarchy can try
but it won’t break