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I carry my roots
like an Emerald inside a cave
light and strong
bright and unmistaken
if forgotten
I’ll fall to my feet
swept away, woohoo!
with the first wind’s whim

I use it as my lullaby
how many times have I heard,
“Portate bien,”
family fearing corruption
as I travel to a place
where women went loose
and morals ran wild
they all sung the lullaby

I wear my roots
like a visible corset
on a long checkered skirt
detail all the beauty there is to know
barely pick up my feet
as my hips campanile
to a cumbia beat

And I whisper my name
It carries my roots
brown and strong
beautiful and flexible
challenged and challenging
rolled up in the pillow
where I lay my head to sleep

Thai dancers at my local Buddhist temple.