Don’t label me by my race;
my olive-beige skin only goes so deep.
The features painted on my face
simply frame my expressions and the words I speak.
Don’t label me by my heritage;
a history lesson of my ancestors’ past.
Their lives and stories all worth homage,
but their identity does not fit my cast.
Don’t label me by my nationality;
those fond childhood memories and a passport
do not anchor my heart with the gravity
of a stationary ship docked at its port.
Don’t label me with a place
too foreign for my hybrid heart,
which stamp her chambers and erase
her cultural mosaic, broken; a bleeding art.
Don’t label me.