Catch a ray of sunshine,

Mix it with laughter's sweet honey.

Then slowly drizzle in morning dew

From a thousand mountain flowers.

Don't forget the raw mango tang, and

Some pepper flakes for heat, of course.

Add a pitcherful of hope. Yes,

The whole thing. Fold in happiness,

honest love, and the expectation

That bad times and mistakes

Won't be remembered too long.

Pour into a tube and shake. Then,

Look through the other end, into

The kaleidoscope closest to what feels like you.

A million attempts in

At making something like you, I find

There is so much more to discover -

Maybe a lifetime's worth of ingredients,

Maybe even more.

Having gotten used to being confined to my room while my parents wordlessly watched on TV whatever my dad had chosen for the day, to say I felt uncomfortable when my boyfriend told me we had to leave his room to have dinner with his family would be an understatement. Forced to sit down and actually talk to people instead of hiding behind a task, I found that I could be very talkative indeed. When I found myself looking forward to dinner, my heart hurt for all the dinners I would have to eat without family when I went back.

/I/

My parents and I were born to parents

Who told stories of a homeland left behind

In a language trickled down.

One generation’s nostalgia turned

Into another’s endless summer vacations.

Some of these tales I forget. Some I let trickle further down -

Those were the ones, I think

They told more than once.

/II/

I speak to a delivery man who hears an accent.

He tells me we share two other languages

So I needn't go to the trouble of talking to him

In what I grew up thinking was my

Mother-tongue, language of a land I’d never known.

All I’m capable of coming up with

Is an unaccented laugh.

/III/

To claim the land I grew up in as my own

Is acceptable to none. For I've belonged

Elsewhere all the time I've been here

And elsewhere when I'm there; elsewhere

All the time I speak my language,

And elsewhere all the time I try to belong.