The kind that makes me beautiful
It's the ground where my feet left impressions
It's the water that never really cared the colour of my skin
It's the breeze that carried spice from my mother's hair
It's the ether left by my father on that extra tip to the gardener
I'm the clay from the earth
Where the streets carried warmth and laughter
Where the ice gola left a chill and a fever
Where grandmas got together in the burning heat
Shredding a rumor over their cup of chai and pumpkin seeds
I've got ash on my face
The kind from my nani's chula
Its the kind that shone like a beacon in broken homes
The kind that satiated hunger and damned souls
The kind in my amma's soot tattoo that read her name
The kind that was left when my mother stepped out of the fire
I've got dirt on my face
The only kind that is mine.
