I come from a long lineage of displaced people,

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.