They Call Us Writers ~ Ubuntu Academy ‘24
Nos llaman escritores,
young people from Connecticut
laughing in languages from around the world,
while living twirled in the poetry of David Bowles,
swirling in the stories yet to be written,
& writing our lives one day at a time.
Words are our power (sometimes they rhyme)
Eles nos chamam de escritores
united by these tales we weave together.
On nous appelle écrivains
They call me Bendovy Louis Jeune
the boy who smiles good and loves sports
They call me Janeth Serbantes
artist from Mexico, sinaloa,
plebes, where I draw
and find joy in reading books
They call me Maria Lamilla,
the Colombian flower,
Ton Chimba, Pandebono,
a rider of many roller coasters
They call me Gabriella Damasceno,
Bibi, the young woman who
lives for amor and Brazilian family
They call me Paul Karen’s Hansy,
Port-au-Prince athlete
who smells good and loves manje
They call me Bestien Mike Woodley,
Haitian, musician, man of the kitchen
They call me Marc Cain Xavier Vincent,
warrior from Haiti, körmon ou ye,
the man with money and clothes
They call me Kristhel Herrera
a smile from Riobamba, Equador
who loves video games and kitty cats,
speaking Spanish and ka familia.
They call me Ana Rivera,
San Felipe la Union, El Salvador
who snoops when the family isn’t looking,
si pota, this kid, moving mountains with a smile.
in a world of psychology, the human mind,
and living as we do.
They call me Samara Franco
Poo de Quijo vaí sô
They call me Pedro Franco
Suco De Laranja in glasses
Matutina, batata
They call me Ana Martins
a girl with artistry amongst the flowers
Brazil, góias, ordem e progresso
They call me Isabele Aquino,
a love of cats and Brazil,
Sâo Paulo, origin u progresses
They call me Valery Barrera,
traveler and lover of shopping,
finder of Ubuntu in Connecticut.
They call me Jenifer Sirin
with pets (L, X, M, R)
the music of mitski,
the girl from Guatamala
The call me Paola Damasceno
one from the farm and the family,
Eu te amo, Patos de Minas, Minas Gerais
They call me Luz Jules
a shade of purple in the Hatian sky,
and a love of ice cream.
They call me Naelka Pierre
noir, girl from Haiti who loves
music and the color pink.
They call me Mauro Serbantes
the taco kid from Sinaloa, Mexico
who loves the music and the food
They call me Louis Pamella
Haitian dancer who loves ice cream and basketball
Fomm Hiatienne yo bél
They call me Andres Lamilla
Cali Colombian,
man of soccer and video games
culigado, parce.
They call me Ana dos Santos,
girl with the blonde hair, believer,
and athletic muscle on the courts,
the one from Minas, Brazil
who works hard in all that she does
“Quando a caminhada é dura, só os duros continuam a caminhar”
“When the going is tough, only the tough keep going”
They call me Yohan Reyes
writer from Dominican Republic,
baller and young scholar in the climb
They call me Yasmine Tamana, speaker of Bengali,
fashion girl of bright colors and flowers.
No sé m’ijo. The story just ends
the tales, the Tully,
the chicken fingers and french fries,
the dancing to Gotye
(the someone that we used to know)
where Trassy looks best in red glasses
moving to the sound of notes that they sing.
There are always questions when learning to read,
fearing the Nagual,
magical tricksters and shamans
who shake off their human form
to reveal the beasts that they are…
bottle rockets dancing light
across the midnight sky
ending up as bookworms
in love with new words and libraries.
They call him Güero,
but we call ourselves writers
who have found our voices amongst one another.
They call us newcomers,
arrivals, immigrants, and refugees,
who cross borderlands and boundaries
to enjoy another breeze.
We have freckles, small noses,
and different types of hair,
we embrace humanity,
give one another care.
Everyone we know speaks a different language:
accents, dialects, birds flying from varying tongues,
but we laugh and draw pictures with our fingers
across one another’s backs,
using chopsticks to carry the alphabet
and solve riddles on the backs of white boards,
tossing rings at the impossible,
passing support with our knees, elbows, and necks.
It is Ubuntu. It’s how we flex.
Hummingbirds, swans, & flamingoes,
robins, herons, pipers, and jays…
spreading our wings for what’s possible to say,
featuring our feathers within the sun’s rays….
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