Anyély Gómez-Dickerson
A TASTE OF OUR (LOST)SONG IN THE STEW OF OPPRESSION
because de donde somos, that ever-haunting question
that asks “where are we from” has one answer, we are
one west african stew—a sancocho to’ mezcla’o growing
strong for hundreds of years en ese mapa
del sur y del caribe in search of our (lost)song
of hope & survival, a song long lost across a voyage
of watery sorrow, lost like our long(lost) african mother,
and we her stolen, severed from her ancestral breast, torn
from that sunkissed bosom—nuestro hogar—our home
y esta nuestra historia es una historia negra
una historia blanca y taína—una mezcla
de cuerpos de almas y sueños
puerto rican and dominican and haïtien
cubanos y afroamericanos, panameños, peruanos
colombianos, brasileños, jamaiquinos, venezolanos,
ecuatorianos, hondureños, mejicanos y salvadoreños,
nicaragüenses, guatemaltecos, bahameños y todos
los caribeños, todos nuestros hermanos
because we are born of the same oppression—we
the enslaved souls, the sons, and the daughters
of bloody aggression & oppression
but we find & feed on the dreams between the folds
and creases of those old southern & caribbean maps
dreaming toward a new hope in a new world
a world that was never new, never really discovered
because it was always there, we were always there,
always breathing, pulsing—our ancestral lands
always beating with the heartbeat and daily toil
of its children en esa tierra now tan lejos y tan cerca
forever in our hearts, this love that binds us
en esta mezcla de cuerpos, de almas
y sueños negros, blancos y taínos
un sancocho of undying dreams
in a mix of this and a mélange of that
ever so strong, singing our (found)song
a song of loss, despair, and survival
our (lost)song forever tribal