Kiearri Mullins
My home is shaped by the curve of the bayou
Still a little heavy, yet still a salted embrace.
It was built by the black people themselves.
Everywhere I look
I see the iron cast lace of French Quarters.
People laughing without a care in the world.
Skin to skin connecting as if we’re family.
Laughter, vibrating through the souls of your feet.
Everywhere I smell
I smell the hinted scent of jasmine.
The boils of swamp puddles flowing into my nose.
My home,
Is a natural comfort of life.
A sinful sensation of bringing people together.
Filled with joy and happiness.
It could mean a lot of things:
Loved ones,
Mardi Gras, dances
Or even gumbo with cornbread.
It brings the culture of reality.
The history behind it all,
The history of black people
Uniting as one.
While school is out, parade floats come.
The aftermath of Mardi Gras
Smells like plastic beads
Like nobody's business.
I smell the beignets' powdery sweetness.
Reminding me that everything
Is turning something into a beautiful
Slow moving pathway.
It made me a loving best friend, a daughter,
A granddaughter and an amazing big sister.
It is a place that knows their sea level is sinking,
A place that knows it dances harder
Than a crawfish boil, combined.
Home doesn’t tell you where you are from,
But it tells the story of who you are.
250 words
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