After reading “Como Tú/ Like you/ Like me” by Richard Blanco.
Como tú, I always wondered what would’ve been
my life If I had stayed in my home, my country.
It’s been 9 years yet I still see words I don’t understand,
people I don’t understand. I see their mouths moving but
I can’t tell what they are saying. Como tú, I didn’t
have the option of where I wanted to
live, or if I wanted a new place to call home.
Como tú, I’m also from the mountains and lakes,
Carne asadas and family gatherings. From another country, I
can’t fully call mine. Como tú, I am from a
place with beautiful skies, mariachi at 12 a.m.,
and big family gatherings. Como tú, I feel like
I don’t have a place to call home, I’m not a part of
the people that live in my “new home” but I can’t go
back now, because I also don’t fit in there either, at least not anymore.
Like a memory, at times I want to erase my past,
my background. Many times I broadcast to the
world my roots, other times I want to hide them.
I want to hold a conversation without showing
my accent, without my two tongues colliding.
Como tú, I want to express myself in two languages,
I have two personalities that are shown depending
on the tongue I’m expressing myself in. Como tú,
I can’t find one word that defines me. Como tú, I don’t know where I belong.