Guerrero

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?