Mexican Poet

I’m from a place where

The palm of our foot is our soul.

I'm from a place where dirt

was a signature of home.

Where the goosebumps grow as

the night comes alive.

Your taste buds will tingle

To the sight of asada.

The sweet milk will act as

A shield against the scorching

Heat of Tapatio.

Feast your eyes for the streets

Serve as a food market.

Neighbors become brothers

In a blink of an eye.

You see street, I see field

Cars kept the game sealed.

As the curbs of the sidewalk

were in charge of the score.

The playing stops as

A mother's voice takes

Over in every child’s head.

Garments on the clothesline

Symbolize the music notes

Dancing through them.

As the rays of Sun of

an endless summer.

Water cascading down

Your throat, enables

Your voice to repeat

One letter over and over and over.

Identity

To be one with all is to be none with self

This must be the reason we struggle with mental health

We see a magazine and believe our bodies are our wealth

At reach of arm’s length is where we wish to be

And as our hand comes in touch with who we want to see

The image stays the same but eventually it leaves

To wish to be everyone else is to not play the hand you were dealt

That’s the reason heart to heart is often never felt

We see a welt and realize it wasn’t the cause of a belt

These bruises and scars are deeper than the human eye can see

We cover our imperfections with material things

We buy another diamond just to see the bling

We sit by our phones hoping it will ring

We sit there in silence as the crickets start to sing

Just to realize we’re lonely

If common sense isn’t common then what is the need

If everything must grow it must have a seed

If we all have scars, we all had to bleed

So here I ask what’s the difference between you and me

Her and she

Him and he

Them and they

Problems are the material to all the shoes we wear

Problems are a part of every pair

I couldn’t walk a mile in your shoes because they were made to fit you

And now as I look in the mirror and reach

The image reaches toward me

Just to realize I have always been who I wanted to see

I now know my identity.

Others

This poem is inspired by Langston Hughes

The application said,

What is your race?

White, Black, Asian, “Other”

But what do I chose-

Who am I associated with?

I wonder if it's that simple.

I am sixteen, bi-racial, born in LA county.

I went to school in-person, then distance learning,

from being many, to one, then to being none.

Why can't I be everything and nothing at the exact same time?

It's not easy to know what is true for you or me.

I feel, and see, and hear you, bi-racial ¨Others.¨

Hear you, hear me-we two-you, me, talk on this page.

Well, I like to laugh, smile, live, and be free.

I like to joke, love, dance, and sing life

Through music- Beyonce, Alicia Keys, or Rihanna.

I guess being bi-racial doesn't make me not like

the same things as people who aren't bi-racial.

So will my page be “mixed” as I write?

Being me, it will not be “Other.”

But it will be

a part of you, Carter.

Sometimes, perhaps, you don't want to be a part of me.

Nor do I often want to be a part of you.

But we are, that's true!

This is my page for you ¨Others¨.