My Grandma’s Name Is By Zoë Neugebohr

shared cultures erased,

and the lineage, lost.

so we surrender to Lucifer’s temptations 

for more Money, more Power.

I forgot what I was thinking

once my grandma’s name came to mind. 

documents erased of those dutifully forgotten 

with my same cheekbones

once they have been burned

like the air claiming my throat,

all that’s left is Progress.

I have all these Strange Men to thank. 

such Bounty we’ve received.

my talent my glory,

They let the world see me for who They say I am. 

yet I still crave brighter stars at night,

but I’m foggy and forgetful

like the Polluted Sky I stare at.

was there something more I was supposed to do? 

my identity has slipped,

the Toxic Waste gathered permanently in my lake.

the ground I walk on

once trailed in great distress -

it does not know me, I am foreign.

my toes have been shed of their ethereal energy; mama doesn’t recognize my haircut.

seedlings have closed away from my hands;

the poison fills my veins with White.

poison which I have assimilated with.

and rather a crayon to color in nature,

I am left with a graphite pencil,

mined from my home and burned from my breath, my nation’s prophecies in flames,

All the same, 

All the same.