Diasporic

'How can I Accept  a limited definable self  when I feel, in me,  all possibilities?'

Anais Nïn 

I love the sound of the word
I say it aloud DIASPORIC
and the image of a dandelion
blowed in the wind comes to my mind,
thats how I feel most of the time
blowed in the wind
hanging in the air
without roots...
under the mercy of the changes of
the weather and the times

Some days I wonder if I live in a country
made of internal diasporas
of displaced souls as my soul
I don't know the answer
I only know that we are a mixture
made of forgotten memories
made of official stories and untold histories
I know I am not white, not yellow, not black, not red
I am a mestiza
I know so little and I wonder so much