Akan Blood, Global Soul

My grandmother's tongue

lives in my chest

like a second heartbeat —

older than the countries

that claim me.

I carry Akan blood

through airports and checkpoints,

through languages that don't know my name,

through cities that see my face

before they hear my story.

I am the sum of migrations.

The child of a continent

that was never just one thing.

They ask me where I'm from

and I pause —

not because I don't know,

but because the answer

is longer than the question.

I am from the kente cloth

and the combat boot.

From the drumbeat

and the dog tag.

From the proverb

and the poem.

Akan blood, global soul —

I am not lost between worlds.

I am the bridge.