The cold grip of indoctrination seizes me
Painfully caressing my shoulders such that my back is bent.
Covering my eyes, so I may not see
Never once has it loosened its hold
Never once have I been free.
Yet what ensnares me IS the freedom
Like a shadow, much akin to my own,
It follows me.
I’ve been like this so long I begin to speak to it.
It tells me America is home of the free,
The land of people who know what they want to be;
A country, built upon those like me.
I belong here.
Why?
Why do I belong here while my little cousin barely has clothes to wear?
Why is it that I’m the one with no burdens to bear?
No weight to pull, no problems of my own.
I can prove I’m not the chosen one
I’ve yet to evangelize the masses, heal millions – die on a cross.
Why me?
Suddenly, my shoulders are no longer tense, my spine is lift up,
And my eyes are opened.
Epiphany.
The realization that my insecurities are no more fallacious than yours.
Understanding that I have family here, experiencing the same as my family there.
Finally knowing my worries aren’t so distant but still...
Why...me?
As I struggle to repel complacency,
I learn what I knew not before.
I am not here.
What’s here is the spirit of my dead grandmother who had dreams I would one day become the president.
The spirit of my troubled aunt who is now a single mother, living in what we barely call an apartment.
The spirit of my own father, who when you look into his eyes, knows we were meant for something greater.
I am not here for myself. I am the embodiment of a collection of souls, the warden of hope for something more.
A carefully crafted collage of clairvoyance; seeing my future—our future.
And as my two shadows devolve into one,
I ask not why I am here, but instead –
Who am I here for?