Heritage and I we’re married at birth, and with Time as our pastor She took my hand- and gently whispered our future into them, We caressed the earth with our feet as we walked through space, and took our place in a bond created by love and grace. Until her bones were crushed and the aphrodisiac passed around dinner tables, devoured by self proclaimed masters, inebriated on destruction and thirst quenched with blood. Has anyone seen my heritage? I have lost sight of her, and only find resemblance in other peoples heritage dressed in similar garments. But has anyone seen my Heritage? She is old and beautiful but young some days, And has smooth black skin that’s scarred in a way. She is tall and slim yet with petite build, And her smile is the peace of grassy fields. She whispers summer breezes into my mind, a gift of knowledge that transcends time. She is poetry indeed that flows from me, giving us both vision that we might see. I want my heritage back so I’ll search inside, Because, what better place for her to reside.