Nonnative--a poem

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