yours and mine

i want to live on a street with all my friends

where we speak the languages we wish we knew instead of english

we peek our heads out of the window to say hello

hensci! مرحباً! ⴰⵣⵓⵍ! maaha! ayo! 안녕하세용!

வணக்கம்! درود! pialli! xin chào!

even the birds, bugs and bushes sing their greetings ‏

our friends carry many faces

sometimes we follow the sound of music to someone’s doorstep

bongos bang, hands clap and pots clang together

in an unusual and infectious melody

a group kicks a ball back and forth

another gossips over knitting needles

some sink their teeth into a fresh catch

blessed and broiled over a flame

and others romp and stomp and wave and sway to the rhythm

someone falls and scrapes their knee

a friend nearby grabs an áloe leaf from their garden

we’re all healers here

inside, a couple giggles in bed over baby names

they wonder what neighbors the child will grow close to

what skills and trades will they learn to love?

next door, a family argues over chores

Nkemi’s tired of harvesting herbs

Zuhra wonders who will make meals for the week

compromise comes, eventually. they know it always does

thunder roils in the distance, promising rain we’ve prayed for

a few take shelter, more come to wait in the wind

as grey-black clouds cover the ground

once the waters pour

we dance with the leaves and the trees and

the feeling of the heavens kissing our skin and 

the soil hugging our soles and

we twist and twirl until our bodies grow tired and

with a sigh, we find our ways home

“yours or mine” has little meaning

yours and mine is all the same

here, we live to share

here, we share to live