This is an edited version of the poem that first appeared in Fountain of Youth (Vine Leaves Press, 2016), p: 27–28.
Maybe because
it is just a word invented,
not a seedling shooting through the earth,
we think it means
something
colossal.
Maybe because
we forgot that we created
similar chimeras
we’ve grown sentimental
with this one.
Maybe because
Aristotle said
what distinguishes our species from animals is
the ability to speak our selves.
Alone, I wondered as a child,
if the white nine-year-old
with jet black hair, straight
to her chin, registered in
Arabic for foreigners instead of Islam,
was not.
I did not ask to know myself.
Maybe because
you keep telling me what I am,
what they are not,
I questioned their right to my adjective.
Maybe because
in secondary school I learned about sign language.
I felt a hot discomfort in my throat,
then excused myself from French.
Maybe because
we are all equally human
until.
