Often times I long to remember where I come from
I want to match the stories my grandmother speaks of when she
tells me of home
to concrete images my mind can absorb
I jump online and google search
“Atoyac De Álvarez, Guerrero”
there I find pictures of the brown river my grandmother used wash clothes in
of houses made of steel sheets and mud bricks like the one we grew up in
of hills and mountains
of dirt roads the same color as my skin
as I scroll
news of people
kidnapped
decapitated
of a drug war
a corrupt government
villagers picking up arms to defend themselves
When people ask me,
“Where are you from?”
I want tell them to
Google search my home
to help me answer that question for myself
What does it mean to have pride in a country you have no memory of?
To want to return to a place that your family fled?
what does it mean to be a poet writing in english when the land you write about cannot be translated?
