Where East Meets South, Meet me on the Horizon

by remembertoexhale

Mom, am I pretty mom?
or do my limbs stretch far and wide
like that of the trees I used to climb in?
Mom, am I pretty mom?
or do the cracks and scars on my body look like those
on the walls I used to walk on?
Mom, am I pretty mom?
or does my hair look like the grass I used to lie on?
Mom I grew up in the trees
until they were too much of an effort to climb
I walked on the walls,
climbed atop our carport, lying flat on my stomach
waiting for an opportune moment to jump down and
“block myself”
picked berries from our trees
eating them and spitting out the pips
mixed  and made mud pies
and got dirty from them
slid down the bodies of the tree in the playground  like a fireman’s pole
until it was smooth and waxy-  an easy slide
mom, Cyle and I swung on the swings
so high that the chains dropped a bit
and when we couldn’t go any higher
we would jump off
imagine we were flying
and see who could jump the furthest
the shadows on the lawn measuring our goals
we would spent entire days in the pool
or riding around the neighbourhood on our bicycles
it changed into planes and then buses and trains and now
you can find me in the city
where the buildings scrape the sky
where the birds scream from too short trees on the islands between
where pavements meet the road with storm drains that run underneath
where the colours of the rainbow
are seen on oil leaks on the tar of the road
or on a designer dress
where the most commonly seen colours are
red and green and orange
on robots- excuse me, traffic lights
see, it still comes out
the girl with the curls
still walks barefoot in the mud
her blood
the berry juice she squeezed and drank as a child
her limbs
bend  the way gale-force winds taught the trees to in her garden
and behind her eyes
will always be the African sun
you can find me in the city
when the sun turns fiery red
peeking out between the concrete jungle
when a little bit of Africa touches Asia
and the reds can no longer distinguish between the African sun and the Asian
that’s where you’ll find me
where East meets South
where the lines on the horizon begin to blur
and give way to change
meet me on the horizon.