Passport Identity

Coming from two countries feels like

isolation.

It’s having two cultures holding a constant battle inside me.

It’s forgetting my mother tongue for a language

that will never forgive me for intruding.

It’s not being accepted in my home country

with words like, “she’s practically a foreigner.”

I don’t know if it’s worse than being raised only seeing white.

An outsider, an outlier, a hybrid-denier

with a tongue carefully twisting around characters

meant to be familiar,

yet stumbling and stuttering and continuously getting used to

words never meant for my mouth.

I was not there when my great-grandfather passed.

I am not there to thank my grandparents enough, to love them enough,

I can’t miss them enough.

At the end of the day, I am still here,

with one foot rooted in the ground and another half

way across the world.