Sometimes when I look at my daughters I marvel at how different their childhood is and will be from my own. I marvel at the privilege they have in being multicultural and multilingual. At the same time I sometimes wonder if they aren't missing out on some things. I'm sure whatever they're missing will be more than made up for in all that they've gained. Here is a poem I wrote about these thoughts.
Nonnative
I see her pupil dilate
And I think of how
foreign it will be
distressed
I had the sun and sparse and hill
And dreams of the atom bomb rain
on the attic roof that
slept with me
But she has buildings and ruins and Spanish and a multitude
of small voices voicing the personal history
of Fulano
But there is a certain piercing crater on her earth
Here there is no blood no
network no auto entender
Absent are the cousins and the grand
tears tear
Also and especially dolorous is the great grand
For Adah was always there
And Adah always will be
