(Love for my Country)
Today I will write a poem about Ethiopia.
It will not be a list of wars in this dystopia
It will not be a list of the loved ones I’ve lost
It will not be a list of the unfortunate people on the streets.
But rather about the culture
the spicy smell of doro wot lingers in my nose
and onto my clothes
or the pungent smell of shunkerit and ithan
while walking out the house.
But rather the way we ignore the itchiness
of the colorful habesha kemist
dusted with gold and white
as we run, fashionably late, to the big event.
But rather the presence of my family
how last summer we laughed together
as we failed to be quiet at four in the morning;
how we danced eskista and gurageña
as people slapped money on our foreheads.
But rather the smell of really strong buna
coming from the jebena
while hearing the popcorn kernels pop
and the chatter of voices, talking and having a good time
But rather how the crickets chirp in the dark
like my country is wishing me a goodnight.
Kindred by Maya Angelou
I want to be a lawyer.