i question who i am
i'm no american
i'm not much of a pinay
the other day
someone asked if i'm mixed
i laughed
i remember my land
gone for too many years
i'm out of place
my people don't know me
and call me an outsider
my boy cousins turned beetles
into flying toys
we'd find lizard eggs
as tiny as a pinky nail
and dragon flies
with magical colored wings
years flew by
they are men now
girl cousins too
have become older
time and place
separate us through culture
spoken languages
beliefs
(will they think
me a terrorist
with almond eyes?)
in this bright city
i mix in with others
in this melting pot
i cook raw
heritage gets lost
while i become just like them
after all the change
and time replaced
i long to be
Who.
I.
Am.