PoemsBrowse PoemsSlamsFresh DropEchoes
LearnWriting TipsPoetry TermsPoets & ArtistsBooksFor Teachers
ExplorePoetry GenomePoem MapEchoesTake ActionGroups
AboutWrite a PoemDonateSign UpLog In

22


What do you see when you look at yourself that you didn’t see before? 

I see the [brown] on my skin

the [under eye] circles, that tell the infinite stories of my [ancestors]

I see my dark brown hair and eyebrows

I see [Mexico] and it’s indigenous peoples, mixed with European rule

I see my immigrant parents who worked so [hard] to be here

I see new beginnings and a new generation. 

I see years and years of work under the sun, I see, community. 

 

I am a [sum] of some of the things I’ve been used to seeing for so long now. 

My very [white] mom and my very brown dad. My dark brown grandma and her strong cheekbones, the [strength] in her eyes that are emphasized by her long grey hairs. 

I am, no longer [ashamed] of these things and for these things that 

make me, alive, beautiful, human, unique, powerful

I am 22 years of learning, trial and error

I am understanding that these things that make me, me, make me human

I am not supposed to look like everyone else because

everyone else is not me.

 
©All Rights Reserved

Something wrong with this poem?

Share

Replies are closed for this poem.

Your Poem's Voice

See what makes your poem unique — its voice, energy, themes, and the literary traditions it draws from.

Comments (0)

No comments yet. Be the first to share your thoughts.

Log in to leave a comment.