I am trying to piece fragments of home from the stories my grandmother has retold millions of times

I excavate memories hoping that at 3 years old I might remember something but everything is blank

I go online and find home on a map

its a small little town

wikipedia tells me of the terrain

the population


I click 

on images

and I find 

dirt roads 

and bright colored houses


I wanna know the history of this place

I hope to read about

mythical gods

and powerful indigenous people

read about a how black Guerrero is

but our history has not been recorded


Instead I find news of kinappings

and beheadings 

of 43 students gone missing


this can not be home

not the way Abue remembers it


I imagine going back

building where we left off


but like Abue says, "I am American now"

grew up with the idea that I have rights

that freedom is something I deserve


I am not like those people on the other side

the campesinos

barefooted and 

with machetes 


I don't imagine myself

drinking water from wells

living under houses made of mud bricks

much less without internet


I am American now

grew up conditioned to believe that somehow 

my life matters more

and because of it my death can not be silent