Archive | 11:06 am

To Adina, Who Came First

1 Sep

Your blood is not your own, Child,

not of your people or choosing,

Its thickness determined in the trenches,

the color as lurid as rape.

Be not unduly proud of your lineage,

for you have contributed nought thus far.

(And merely add to the numbers with the straightness of

your nose and character.)


You are Aryan, says the lilt in Mamma’s voice, her

swarthy face mocking the delusion of tone.

There are none so blind as those who will not

see, and you must not wish for

The reputation of your bloodline,

your stories, your creed,

to carve your path,

precede you.


When, at the hour of reckoning,

they ask what you have done,

You cannot believe

that merely being spawned,

birthed among the anointed:

blessed thousands on stretches of prime earth and vaster benefits,

was your greatest contribution to the land that

embalmed you.


Be not of your blood, Child,

for they will anchor you,

in chains that beseech and soggy knots that shrink

until you morph-molt-manifest,

Your nose, height and hair

shrieking hosannas to history,

And the iron gates, they will creakingly close,

locking you inside, among the Sayers,

arrested, taut and proud,