Member-only story
My Accent is My Anchor
A poem about identity and discrimination
Spanish, blue
English, yellow
my song? green
in a global world
full of colorful melodies
you’d think
combined tones
make a beautiful song
you love our Frida
hard labor, Sarapes and food
but reject my song as unsound
even when I speak loud, clear,
reaching for and almost getting to
perfection
exceeding expectations
or so I thought. . .
yet, my hint of green
gets lost on its way
to greet
your ears
trained to listen and believe
only tales told in pristine yellow
even when I shed my skin
and wear a suit to
suit your expectations of
the sound of a sound song
until I forget to return
to my skin
at the end of a working day
Every. Single. Day
almost de-hispanified
as I drown in
white supremacy’s tide
Mexicana is
smoke in the shadows
whose existence
emerges from my depths
when my green song
rouses you to ask
“where are you from?”
