I’m from a plain land

In a house on a hill where the rocks span

Where the sounds are quiet

The people are older

Its simple

A church and a Library


The birds chirp in the morning

Tree’s blow in the wind

And the stars can be seen like fairies in the night

I’m from the streets

In a project home

Where the music is bumpin and the people are bold

It’s crowded and crammed

It’s my family

Screaming, singing, yelling

Such serenity

Food on the fire

Throwing peace and blessings; sing Hallelujah...HIGHER!

Traffic jams and night plans

I’m from the Rich Port; a poor land

Congas, Guitars, and Coqui’s in the hot sand

Preaches and songs in my blood

The stories told, the history in my hands

A flag

Passing on the memory of where it all began.

This is where I’m from

This is who I am