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
