I am made of soil, of the Earth and the worms. Of the mud and the minerals. I am made of Oceans, of the crustaceans. Painted in the mixture of my father and mothers lust, I am made of lightning. They say I taste like thunder, that I am righteous and true. I am not what this world made me. I am the slaves tongue, the African Continent, the Island of Hispaniola, the Native blood that ran through its roots. I am the indigenous, the African slave, the African King, I am history. I am history. I am my fathers first step in America, my mothers first english word. I am all of them, they all of me. The güira my uncles played. I am all of it. All of this, lineage.