i am standing in front of you
and you don’t see me
i am the moon and stars
but you only see the night
i am the poetry in songs
but you don’t pay attention to my music
and then
you wonder
why i hide
from you
why my voice turns into silence
when you pass by

the magic of poetry.
is that it makes everything
beautiful.
it fills your lungs
like air.
it turns your soul
into a sky full of stars.
your heart
a field of wildflowers.
you.
into a poem.

on my right leg,
under my knee
lives a cinnamon colored stain
that looks a bit like africa
the same way i look a bit like africa
in the shape of my nose
and the waves of my curls
waves like the water that carried my
ancestors in boats
all the way to this island
of salt and sugarcane

unknot the knot
in my throat
with a look
a word
maybe a kiss
that will give me back
the breath you’ve stolen

did you expect my flowers
to bloom among you?
what could grow on your dry land?
only weeds.

there are things
you think you know
but when the words come
from somebody else
their truth
(your truth)
becomes unwavering

one day (or night)
it hits you
(the feeling that you are not alone anymore)
and even though you were never afraid of
(loneliness)
you don't want to feel it anymore