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Heritage
All to often strangers ask:
"Is that child really yours?"
At cafes, ball games, bathrooms,
In parks and grocery stores.
"Oh yes, he's mine" I say to them
"And I in turn belong to him.
Because there is much more to being family
Than race or hair or skin.”
And I wonder how to explain to them
Our connection and our bond;
Or how I think we discovered each other
Because some magic wand
Came from out of nowhere,
And now both of us have found
We share a certain something we think
Is special -- perchance profound.
Like any other family
We experience fear and doubt,
But as long as we keep talking
These feelings will come out
In moments of sadness and crying,
Then relief and hugs and laughter;
Our true selves at last are known
And that is never a disaster.
So when I dare extend my reach
From my child within,
And hold out a hand to touch him
There is much we both will win.
Then I can say "Oh yes, he's mine
And you must surely see:
It is his heart and his brown skin
That have rubbed off on me."
Ira
Slotkin, 2003
At Latin American Heritage Camp 2003
