Momma Jamaica

Skies blue
Sun shining
Take me back to the land
Where my fathers come from

 

Let me speak the language
And listen to the music
Give me more of the food
That my ancestors once knew

 

I wear my colours--red, green, gold, and black--
With such a pride
That I will never hide

 

I await the day
I go back to my father's place
To see the things he saw
And to experience things beyond my dreans

 

One day, I'll be going home
And into the arms of
Sweet Momma Jamaica

This poem is about: 
Me
My family

Comments

Need to talk?

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741