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]]>So, it’s no wonder I feel lost.
It’s no wonder that I have found joy in discovery,
A rediscovery,
Reclaiming really, of a heritage
That has been muddled by inaccuracies and silence.
No acknowledgment — propaganda.
My family — living, though paradoxically,
Was convinced it did not exist.
Lost in misinformation, I’m grabbing for a flashlight…
Constantly, fighting back.
It’s encoded, in my genes.
I know this because behavior, its genetic,
On edge, anxious, effed up…
It’s no wonder.
Chains. Waves. Tears. And whips.
Memories with voices that forcibly shout Move!
Deconstruct me, and you’ll see.
Here, there, and perhaps even there…
I’ll never know,
My mind occupied.
By a demanding other — without negotiation,
I am here. But I am aware.
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]]>But that part of my heritage is lost.
So I feel a little disingenuous…
How can I claim what I do not know?
But I’m still curious,
And find myself wondering,
About the past and the lives of who came before me
Choices, and decisions, and doubts, and interests
Crazy that my being is defined by a history I’ll never truly know
Its both frustrating and scary, and honestly unfair
Well life has never been fair
So I take my longing as leverage,
To discover and rediscover,
Lineage lines of my dad and of his dad’s dad
Out of touch—
That’s what I am, with a culture my ancestors knew well
I am determined one day I’ll visit
Can feel it in my unsettled soul
That I’ll find comfort in a place family before me,
Had once called home.
Cuba.
MAYA FOSTER is a doctoral student in biomedical engineering and can be reached at maya.foster@yale.edu.
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