I dreamt once—
that I was running through the expanding terrain of Port Au Prince Haiti.
My feet stomped against the unleveled ground,
my knees, covered in dust, rose and fell in sync with my breath.
I dreamt of my home—
a now incomplete picture made up of colorful building blocks, marked chalk boards, and colorful dresses.
A small pack of plastic hair beads lay on the table, waiting to be intentionally placed into the ends of my chunky braids in an orderly fashion.
My brother’s cartoons clashed with the charming melodies of kompa that rung through the concrete blocks that enclosed us,
and we danced till our bodies refused our minds.
I dreamt of the aromas that entered through my nostrils, signaling my brain of the feast flooding my vision on every Sunday evening.
In these dreams,
I completed a story that was snuffed out of my grasp,
each piece from fragmented memories and lazily told stories during family events.
Now, I no longer dream,
but I still dance the second I recognize the distinctive bass of my people’s voice.
I still place my hair in chunky braids though they lack the cascading beads.
The aromas still signal that same feeling of warmth and
I found myself outside of my dreams
and the reality that memories did not bridge me to my own unbreakable identity took its place instead.
Lincey Bazile is a senior at Bunnell High School. She loves staying active and is on the varsity volleyball team and track and field team, which she is captain of at BHS. She enjoys reading and writing (especially poetry) and owns her own blog. She is passionate about mental health advocacy, community involvement, and working with children, and represented Stratford as the 2025 Barnum Festival Princess.
