Poetry/Short Stories

Swirled child



My child

Of many nations

Child of

Crossed bridges and walls

Cracked history of hate

To love

A swirl 


Henna and wine

Salt and pepper

My child

Of many tribes

Of mountains climbed

And oceans crossed.

Your tongue

Has tasted Palm oil

Yet knows a drizzle

Of olive oil

Over romaine 

Africa calls you


America claims 

You too.

My child

Child of swirled skin

You belong here

You belong there.

Susan McMillan

For My beautiful children

24 thoughts on “Swirled child

  1. Do you have family still back in Uganda(?)(can’t remember your origin) My daughter’s father took her to Zimbabwe. While he doesn’t know where his slave ancestors came from, he did want her to see a little bit of Africa.

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