I know the fullness and richness of my heritage.
Although, its only where my mothers' ancestors are from.
Its been intertwined from four continents.
I can describe them one by one, starting with my grandfather's line.

As a young girl I was taught how to hold my arms and hands.
Learned how and where to place and move my feet.
With my mid-fingers and thumbs touching so slightly.
I'd turn my wrist upward and downward just rightly.

With my chin facing forward, I moved my head from side to side.
Remembering to smile with my eyes.
After learning these delicate steps, I got a surprising treat.
The woman sitting on the floor began to paint my hands and feet.

Then wrapped me in beautiful silk, tucking & pinning me like a quilt.
From head to toe she adorned me with shimmering gold.
Applied my makeup & placed a symbolic dot onto my forehead.
I steped out on stage & took my stance as I began the Dalkhai dance.

At another cultural class I would don a black body suit and tights.
Practicing long and hard to stomp my feet and take flight.
To every beat of the drum there was a movement.
Bending and arching my back and rolling my head.

When I became powerful and strong, I was allowed to perform.
Lightly draped with an ethnic print around my small narrow hips.
I was sent out on stage to fulfill my steps.
With every beat I stomped, jumped & twirled around 'til time the curtains came down.

As I sat around my grandmothers sewing table,
Threading colorful beads to a feathered quilted pattern.
I would listen to the story of how her grandmother died.
Men on horseback took her away when papa could not be found.
Helper mamie hid the children under her very large gown.

When her mothers' papa returned he raised his little ones.
Once they became old enough he married each one away.
Dividing pieces of real estate so they may start their lives that day.
Offering stolen jewels from his native land, from across the great big pond away.