Is that Really Your Ancestors' Wildest Dream?

I lost the words of my poem in the depths of the water in my mind.
a storm came across my shore and washed away all that i thought was mine.
she reminded me that i was hers to come back to. i came home and dreamed of the promise lands where my great grandmother swung from the trees with a hammock of all the things she imagined and loved as a kid.
i opened up my mouth to defend myself and the taste of salt water stung me and left sores in my mouth for 13 days.
the sun rose and i spoke of a colorful land that we were all promised.
the moon shined and i slept on the edge of the bed pulling my hair out as i layed wide awake trying to bring about consciousness to those around me.
i spoke of patience and dignity and all they could hear was pettiness and whatever surface level language we were taught in kindergarten.
me and my cousins spoke tongues in my dreams, we sat silently yet satisfied among the fruits of our labor.
i stopped dreaming and the raging hot fiery red turned into a grayish pure ever-mint green.
i opened my eyes and i let be whatever be.
wondering if you were mine to keep.