I COME FROM

9.35PM in the Big Brother House. TIANA THA WORDIST Whatsapps her latest poem to the groupchat. Abondance the blogger pleads with her to post it online. It happens.

I come from a mother & a father who didn't really have fathers, from the farmers turned traders of the Ga and the trademarkers of west african excellence, the Akans.

I come from bankruptcy, fraud and bad credit or something like that
all i remember is being a youngin and thinking that was right cause HM Revs said it

I come from the unstable vibrations of police sirens in tottenham that shake outsiders but soothe and stabilise insiders,
from the council flats that dampen that clean & unreachable feeling you get when you look up the street at the houses that unapologetically wear a cringe inducing mortgage tag,
from the claustrophobia inducing aroma of palm oil, spices and meats ilegally smuggled through Heathrow airport

i come from wanting to live in ToysRUs,
from the evolution in obsession with Baby Anabelle's, to Barbies, to Myscene dolls,  to Furby's. Never Bratz dolls doe.

i come from Sainsburys value razors caressing the inner wrist of my left arm but i also come from a now nourished soul.
from bittersweet flirtations with the false belief that yes tatiana, you are straight and no tats, you dont like bums
i come from days of fluidity and lightness and from days of overthinking till im numb.

i come from wherever my soul decides to go.


today, and for some time now, its been acquainting itself with self love.

but poetic digression aside, 

                        I come from the God within me.