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My Tree: Inside the Heartwood
Like a genealogical tree, I tried to map my attachment history and came back with a treasure chest, only that instead of gold it was filled with regrets, things I already knew; truths that are hard to digest. On a twig, I saw a reason to trace back to larger boughs. And when I reached the boughs, it made me question if they really grew out of the same trunk I’ve known. So I slid down the bark and made it inside the heartwood. There, I saw the pattern. It all looked the same. An infinite circle that mirrored itself with every new coat. Layer by layer, the stories looked…
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Who The Hell Am I – A Poem
This is yet another identity post. I often wonder, you see… “American” is broad, so I won’t go there Dominican by birth, but people don’t care. They think I’m Cubana, sometimes Colombiana Puerto Rican, Brazilian, even Peruana. In my grandpa’s blood, Asian; in my grandma’s, French African for sure; Spain brought in the slaves. “What the hell am I” I’ve wondered for years My last name I traced, it is European. Taíno, Mestizo; the terms now seem odd History has played a role, and full-blood we are not. But Multiracial is beautiful, a wonderful world, I can straighten my hair or wear it curled. Literature and music, the influence is…
