The Girl
I am the girl raised on fresh fish, vegetables, and rice,
seasoned by the smoke of crackling fires.
Laughter echoed through meals,
where health was found in simplicity.
I am the girl who climbs trees with ease,
who treads familiar paths and ventures deeper into the wild,
pausing to savour the sweet guava and medlars.
Barefoot, I delight in cool streams and squelching mud.
I am the girl who scales coastal fishing paths effortlessly,
who casts with a bamboo rod,
who feels most at home in the salted air,
with coarse volcanic sand beneath my feet.
I am the girl with the warm voice
that often drops the ends of words.
The girl quick to laugh,
grateful for all that I have.
I am the girl whose skin tells stories,
woven through centuries—
each mark, each feature
a quiet testament to a heritage long carried,
still unfolding.
I am no longer that girl,
but a woman—
a mother to a girl like that.
Responses
To the Girl, woman ,wild island fae, Climber of trees and catcher of prey, To the barefoot wordsmith , the coastal maid, Laughing fruit thief of sweet tasting glades. To the girl, mother, daughter, distant island sister. We are separated by enormous sea vista, yet connected, I share your joy for island life, Your isolation, island triumphs, island strife. To all island girls, let’s hold each other high. Protect and celebrate and help each other fly.
–Response from GH Falkland Islands