Mi Madre

I wonder what it must’ve been likeFor her tongue to wrap itself aroundForeign soundswhite sounds.Calling her sistersAnd telling them she was going to a homeThat wasn’t surrounded by mountainsAnd trees ofAguacate y MangosTomate de árbol y PlátanosA home that wasn’t encircled byFields of caña de azúcar y caféA home that wasn’t blooming withOrchids and Magnolias.But was instead surrounded byTrees full of bare branches and heartache,Soil barren with concrete and frustrated dreams,Kitchen tables ringed with coffee stains and memories.I wonder what it must have been likeTo be chased out of a countryOnly to steal into a nation that hated youFor being a victimOf circumstances set up by that same state.I wonder what it must have been like to try andassimilate into the fabric of Middle AmericaWhere barriers of language and skin makeassimilation impossible.To swear to never have kidsNever go to americaAnd then eat your words.I wonder what it must have been likeTo give birth to a boyAnd have her grow up a girlTo watch her changeLike an artist perfecting their workSeeing her manifest more fullyInto her bodyIn ways that might frightenHer for the realness of it.I wonder it must be likeTo live in amerícaHaving all the comforts that the West can offerAnd only want to go backAnd eat from the treeThat fed her when she was young.Life is full of contradictions andMy mother is a strong woman.