I come from roots that won’t let go,
Braided deep in the brown soil.
They hold the rocks of my ancestors,
Dampened with their sweat.
Roots carry the song of sacrifice,
They beat like a drum with resilience.
The rivers and sun blend into harmonies,
My mother’s laughter echoing, decrescendos.
The warmth of the earth envelopes me.
I am tied to the sand of Guyana.
Where my mother left her footprints as a child.
Where she learned to dance with the wind and sing with a storm.
But, my wings?
They are stitched from cumulus clouds,
They carry me higher and higher and higher.
So high my toes frost with snow, my lips chapped blue.
My wings stretch and grow stronger in stormy skies,
Soaring through the path they carved for us.
Each feather a question mark:
Who are you?
Where do you belong in this vast sea of opportunity?
But belonging is not a destination, not a goal.
It is not a house, a country or a language
Belonging is the wave I ride,
A bridge to where I came from and where I’m going.
My roots whisper: Hold on to who you are.
My wings say: Look back, see how far you’ve come.
How broken and buckled we were.
How strong and able we have become.
My roots keep me grounded.
My wings remind me of the ocean sky.
And when the jealous moon asks who I am,
I’ll say;
I am roots and wings.
Kids Help Phone (KHP) is honoured to share creative content submitted by youth from coast to coast to coast as they Feel Out Loud with us. We thank the Feel Out Loud Community Creator of this piece for their contribution to youth mental health and well-being in Canada. For more information on the Feel Out Loud Community Creator Space and / or how you can submit your own creative content for possible publication, you can visit the submission page.
